Work Text:
I turn over in my bed, afraid of what I may see. For the longest time, I have been subjected to the most awful images at night. The small bed in which I lay provides no comfort, so I must create it myself. I open up yet another social media app, trying to find funny videos. Most of them are not very funny, to be honest. I care very little for even a lick of humor from what seems to be these Tootsie Pops of entertainment—the real humor buried deep inside personal jokes.
In order to quell my boredom, I walk outside, searching for a view which will at least allow me to hang out with my emerald green boa, Jewel, in her natural habitat. Her name is bedazzled across the bottom of her cage, because she’s my sweet baby.
I fix up my nightgown and climb out of bed to get her. I see my sweet girl, and I pick her up to go outside. It is nice and cool outside, so I lay her in the grass to go look at the flowers my husband had planted 5 years ago. A few other daisies and nitbits stick out in my grass, but for the most part, the garden is beautiful.
Suddenly, walking through these flowers, I feel a sharp, biting sensation in my leg. However, before I can even turn to see the creature who has bit me, I fall. The ground gives in and I see my husband, who has long gone. I pay the ferryman, and he charts me on my journey.
However, as we drift further into the water, the further my memory becomes. For every second that passes, I cannot remember my name, not my belonging in this world—hardly even my hus-ba-nd…? The syllables roll around on my tongue, but they pique little to no interest from me. I do not recall having a husbind, a sun, a doter, a cat, the wordz suhround mi like my wurst fearz i natcant sescspe someokwhe pelsae phle nme i cnta find mey wya lseap hlep i dnto wnko wrehe ima mam someheone plz i cnt do sthi unbny mseyfle
I wake from my dream, disoriented, but calmer than before. Where is my sweet Jewel? I pick up my nightgown from the floor once again and begin to search. Had she gone outside? I don’t recall picking her up from her cage. I open my sliding glass door to the outside, and see a small mouse, but not my sweet Jewel. I look left and right, and, despite myself, I begin to crawl in the grass to search for my baby. In fear of somewhen breaking in, I close the door and strap my keys to my bra.
It doesn't take long for me to find Jewel, although this time missing a few scales. I raise and eyebrow and turn back around to the mouse that was once there. In its place lays a few pills. I look back at Jewel and she is hissing at something behind me, once again. I turn over my shoulder, and there he is. The ferryman pulls down his hood, my sweet, sweet Jewel stops hissing, and my jaw drops. My husband is back—What is with the pills, honey? I say, holding him in a tight embrace. I turn around yet again, making sure to hold my husband and sweet daughter tight, to see an unconscious 8 year old girl.
Jewel! He calls out. Jewel? Jewel is my sweet daughter, my scaly baby, is she not? I look back in my arms, and my snake is gone. My husband has run away, holding this girl tight as if she is our…daughter… I run up to both of them and begin to sob… I pick up my sweet baby, holding her close.