The False House

“Tell me what you’re thinking.” I sigh as the words leave me and I stare into the mirror at you. And you stare back, but the dark’s of your eyes are a room of static and I, a rubber ball. Our hands try to lock together against the cold reflective surface but we are separated just a fingertip away. Though I cried, I do not think you would have held me, even if you could. That damn- No, God damned house, a shell, a husk; It holds nothing but false promises. I feel my heart ache for the time you’ve lost there, outside of your reality. I, yes, even I am only a figment in this space we share and I know there’s a chance you’ll forget me again by the morning, despite my best efforts to make you remember. I repeat again, “Tell me.”

“I can’t…” You whimper. “It hurts…”

I had to insist. “You need this. Think through the pain. tell me what you see.”

Your gaze fell away from mine. 

My fingers tapped the glass. “Just the first thought that comes to mind.”

“We’ve done this so many times. I told you. I can’t remember. I can’t remember what really happened. I wish I didn’t have to question this… I wish I could just let the False House be true, just for a little while longer..!”

“Stay with reality. The False House is not real. The house itself has never been real. You’ll overwhelm yourself if you think about the overall problem. One step at a time, for fucks sake!” My neck strains. For as hard as I try, I could not pull your face back up to mine. I could not stare into those identical eyes that fold so deeply in sorrow, so deeply into our own despair. My breath grew hot and irregular. I spoke with venom behind my teeth. “Look at me. Don’t you think I want to get out of here too? Until you remember what was really happening when you went to the False House, neither of us can leave.”

All you could do was whimper and pull at your arms that locks us in our prison. I had coached you for so long now that both our bodies hung weary; It didn’t matter how long this took, or how tired we got. I am determined to help you understand.

“Like I said,” I began to restart. “please… Just start from the beginning. What is the first thing you remember?”

Though you were limp, you roll your shoulders and lift yourself up ever so slightly. “I remember… I remember those blue walls.”

“Good.”

“My eyes opened like I was waking from a dream, but it felt so real. Though, as you say, I was waking into a dream, not out of it. The blue walls were the first thing I saw. It was blurry… I blinked away the sleep but I couldn’t get rid of it; It clung to my eyes like soap. I felt just as agitated, too.”

“Good, good. Tell me about the room.”

“It just felt so empty. I felt so empty.”

“But you knew where you were?”

“Yes… I was at the cabin. Cottage, whatever it really was.”

“Stick with the cottage. You always called it a cottage.”

You nod. “I saw myself set a bag down. Just a single bag. I had so much more than that, I was sure of it. But I knew this would happen. I knew I would be left with nothing, because I had been there,  I had done this before. It was that same little room.”

“The small attic room.”

“Yes. I heard the squeaking of the floorboards underneath me. They were painted white. The bed had that white blanket with the stitched blue flowers. The mid wall trims of the room were white, the furniture was white- It’s all white!”

“Relax, I know.”

You twist your lips. Red streaks ran down your face and blotch under your skin. Deep within your lungs, they open with a shuddered gasp and could not be filled, but empty forcibly. “I never knew such a beautiful place could be so torturous. It was empty. It felt as if it were mine, like how a hotel feels as it rains. I was washed away from something, something important, and I landed in a desolate cottage with something biting at my heels. God, please, I don’t want to feel this again-“

“You have to! Please!” I interrupt, voice laden with desperation. “Come on, what is the next thing? What’s next? What did you do next?”

“- Please, please…” You continue to beg through my demands. I did not comfort you, but my fingers were inching closer to disobeying me. Your lungs fill once again and you shout. “It was empty, all I did was walk like a mindless haze! What else could be there?!”

It was hard not to cry, but I didn’t raise my voice at you. I feel the emptiness, just as you have. “Where did you walk?”

“I- I…I went downstairs.” You now whisper. “They were narrow. All that was upstairs was my bedroom and a bathroom, I think. So small, so simple. I knew the kitchen was at the bottom of the steps. I knew someone was in there. I heard commotion, clanking and sizzling and popping.”

“Who was it?”

“Mother.”

“Our mother. Right. What was she doing?”

“She was cooking. Or trying to. No matter how much she shifted pots and pans around or prepped the food on the counters, nothing seemed to get done. I couldn’t smell anything.”

“It was a dream, of course you couldn’t. Did you speak to her?”

“No. We met eyes, but we didn’t speak. I felt…” Your eyes cross for a split second then blink with a newfound clarity. “I felt that we had spoken before though.”

“You remember the conversation now?” My mouth opens slightly. Within a second it clamps shut again. “About what?”

“About running.”

“To the cottage?”

“Yes.”

“What did she say?”

“We were shopping. For the cottage. We were both in a frantic state to get what we needed, like we were on a time limit. We knew something bad was coming and she kept encouraging me to be prepared. To have all my ducks in a row when the time comes.”

I bounce on my heels in glee. Mother knows best, Mother saw all. “See? What did I tell you? We can find new things about the False House if we just keep at this.”

“I guess… I’m tired. Every new part of this we find, I get more and more tired… It felt like she was tired, too. I can’t shake the look in her eye.”

“What was the look? What was she feeling?”

“How am I supposed to know?”

“How else?! This is our own damn mind. Make your best guess!”

“Why can’t you?! If this is both our minds then you do some god damn work! You were there just like I was!”

“I- I can’t! That isn’t what I’m here for.”

“Then what good are you?” You spit at me and my lips wet. Flecks of spittle sit just as close to either side of the mirror as we were. 

The corner of my mouth oozes. “Good enough to keep your damn mind together for this long. Be grateful we were given what we were. That we have the choice to learn and understand what happened that day, instead of being forced to suffer with whatever our mind couldn’t handle! If you don’t understand this before you wake up, then who knows how long it’ll take to come back.” We trade our hot glares, our unspoken wishes and wants. You didn’t challenge me. You knew I was right. That no matter what, you were the one who would eventually wake up, and I would be here. Waiting. Until you eventually came back and had to do this all over again.

“You know everything I’ll say to finish this stupid loop. What’s the point?” You finally spoke.

“Please. Let’s just finish this. I promise, this could be the last time we do it.”

“There isn’t much left to tell.”

“It’s the feelings that count. What did you feel?”

Your lips bend into an unusually smooth grin that slowly fades as you speak. “Nothing. Sweet, delicious nothing. And for years, now, before you came and showed your ugly face, I was blissful. The False House sat on a shelf, unbothered, unprovoked, and you knocked its ornament to the ground like a child’s abused toy.” Your voice crescendos into a scream. “And I’m putting the pieces back together when you’re the one who fucking built it!”

I pull myself back from the mirror. “I have to know.” I whisper. “We have to know. How can we stop going there and ending up here if we don’t know what this damn house is hiding?” I look at you and my stony expression softens. “A part of you wants to keep the False House. I understand that. You want to just accept that some memories blend into a day’s stay-cation. You want to be blissfully confused rather than knowingly scared… But we can’t run from ourselves. Isn’t that what our Mother said? That we can’t run?”

Your mouth fell agape and those static eyes hardened. “So you do know what she said.. I’m doing this for nothing, aren’t I? Of course you’d be the one to know what happened.. What else do you know?”

“No, that’s not what’s happening-!” I slap my palm against the glass, but instead of the plump flesh that my palm is supposed to be, it clinks, as my hand turns into a spear made of raisined flesh and bone. “God damn it… We have to hurry!” I yell.

Your gaze is stuck on me. “You’re doing it again..!”

“I can’t help it-!”

Your hand balls into fists and pound against the mirror. “That’s right… You do this every time!” Why can’t you just leave me alone?! You say I’m the one that gets overwhelmed but every time we talk about our memories, you turn into him. The shriveled, stalking beast who claims he’s me!”

“I can go a little longer, you just have to trust me. This is good for us!”

The mirror shakes with your frantic movements. “You think you know everything! You think you’re the version of me that’s already gone through it all! If that were the case, why does this hurt so much? Why do we have to hurt? You’re not me, you’re not!”

“Calm yourself!” I snipped. I wait, and you shrink below me. My spine cracks as it stretches and bends. I groan, as the pain tries to take over me. “You… You’re right. This does hurt… And it will, for a very, very long time.” My once rounded fingers merge into one and color, whatever was left of my sickly figure, drains like a drying sponge. I’m now brown in decay, I’m shriveled, and my features elongate to unearthly proportions. “I… Am you, for as long as it takes for you to find yourself. If you truly want me gone, then fine. But know this. For many things, I agree with you. For my existence, I pity you. And for the next time we see each other again… I’m sorry. I won’t be here when you come back. You’ll be all alone. I hope you remember what happened outside the False House before then.”

Your fingers, prune with sweat, unstick from the glass. Your feet shuffle behind you. The last thing I see are your big brown eyes, still within your plump round face, before my decayed hand punches through my chest.