It had been months, maybe years since we took refuge in the bunker. I had already lost track of time, and she…was losing her mind. Over and over she kept saying that it was just a nightmare, and that she wanted to go back up to her beautiful garden. She loved her so much that the pain might have twisted her a bit, or maybe even more. At that point in time I didn’t know what to do anymore.
I had set up everything according to specifications. We had a future down here, or at least I believed that, but sometimes I did feel the walls close in on me, choking me, leaving me unable to move. I managed to keep straight most of the time, but it was during her periods of insanity that I started to fall as well. It just wasn’t going to work.
I’d often stare at her, admiring her beauty as she rose from bed, most often bobbing her head, and her hair, always flowing flawlessly into the back drop. After that, I would go back to sleep and wait for her to call me back.
I realized that everything turned bad when she didn’t come to me to wake me up with that wet, tender kiss of hers. It’s not like there was anything to do, besides the usual upkeep of the rooms, we were limitless to the time allotted to us by the powers to be. Survival was a game of patience, one that would always tear us apart.
It was that very moment that I walked into the kitchen and spotted her rocking back and forth on the wooden chair, her hair cut, and her clothes ripped.
She cried in a humming tone, almost sounded beautiful expect I knew the pain within the tones.
“Hoooney, she went back to the garden, and now I can’t find her.”
“Can you…pleaaase tell her to come back?”
“She is never coming back Laura. You know that.”
“Yes she is, she said she was.”
I reached into her and embraced her, squeezing as tightly as I could. She fought back.
“Get off me! And go find her!” Her face turned a deep red, her eyes expressed extreme anger. There was something about them that always broke me. I could have just played along, just to see her eyes sparkle like they always did, but I was beginning to lose my mind too.
There had been a couple of moments I had heard her laughter echoing through the corridors of our bunker. I even once ran to the rations room thinking she was there, but only the painful picture of imagining her was remnant on those walls; the pictures lit up the way, the ones of our family, including pictures of her.
The day felt excruciating long, listening to her wail on for hours. It almost felt like being cursed to death, just like the sailors who met their death after hearing the mermaids sing. The sounds of her voice had finally become irritating and vulgar. I was beginning to despise her, so I left the room and climbed the ladder up to the entrance. I walked a few feet and cleared the window, then peaked outside.
The world seemed battle torn, ravaged by a thousand wars at once. It looked horrendous, burned to ashes. But as much as I tried to see the world for what it was, a strong pulsating pain inside my head overcame me, and so I decided to head down and lay on the bed. I tried snuffing her out, but her loud, impaling wails kept piercing my ears. I clenched my teeth and held the pillow tight against my ears.
And then silence ensued. I was asleep when I was awakened by the presence of another. I felt the bed dip, and heard her voice.
“Hey baby, why did…” Her voice crackled.
Fed up, I got up and reached for the night stand, took out the hatchet. “You seemed mad, what…, what…going on…are…ok?”
I turned around and hacked her right on the temple. I was done. I had enough of her. She was driving me mad.