Asphyxia

By: Anthony M. Shadows

Tearing through the watery surface of yet another sweat soaked nightmare, she awoke gasping to alleviate the deadened ache within her lungs. To Amelia Moore this was becoming a tiresome and draining ritual of suffocating on her own air. Rolling over with a preternatural like groan as her searing lungs filled with air, she dared a stolen glance at the bedside clock. Five ten in the am glared back at her in indignant reprimanding, dreadful in its semblance to a sentence of incarceration. Its frightening how easily one can accept horrid events, such as nightly near death experiences, with just a bit of repetitious exposure. How much of an unbalanced hellhole must the human psyche be to lie down and submit to such eviscerating adversity. Well Amelia did the only thing one can do in the situation, which was in true beggars calculation, counted off the measly hours of sleep she could still receive till morning. How sad, little Amelia is she thought to herself, contemplating on what she looked like there a thirty-one year old woman in bed, hands clasped together to ask for sanctuary. Is this truly what her life had amounted to so far? Befitting, she guessed, that being such a cynic her bargaining would fall upon deaf ears; and much later she finally succumbed to unconsciousness though only after a chaser of cold medicine. The cold tile of her bathroom floor succeeded in sending needle shocks up her body, all the way to the very back of her neck. However brash, it did serve to pull her closer to the land of the living and awake; but in the world of teaching a graduate course it was nowhere near alert enough. After a particularly cool shower, flirting on the precipice of cold, she found her mental state still lacking, but acceptably so. Amelia wrapped herself into a towel and eased out of the shower. Standing before the sadly crystalline clear mirror, she was reminded of why as a youth she had been so fond of showers. How, after an everlasting duration under the steaming hot fall of water, she would hastily exit to meet with the mirror full of steam so thick you could dampen an entire towel trying to dry it. Then she and her mother who would enter shortly after hearing the water cease, would spend as long as the steam would last drawing out words and hearts around their cloudy images. If you kept the door closed, and the sink running hot, you could make the steam last for so long she reminisced in her mind. For other girls her age then it was a silly game of amusement, scrawling overtly large and curling mustaches on one anothers image and laughing at the absurdity of it all. Little Amelia was always estranged mind and soul from her peers. Looking more deeply into the world then even her gradeschool teachers at the time. She would equate the words and shapes that she created around her reflection as synonymous with herself. Her mother would write curious with an arrow towards Amelia, in turn she would write detecting. Her mother wrote smart, and she would write thinking and so forth in that fashion. As she grew older her mother would give her her privacy and space and not join her to play the game. The older Amelia would stare into her own eyes deeply, pontificating for a long while before daring to write a word onto herself. She chose each word with great deliberation, and words such as intuitive, deep sighted, and finally different began to emerge. She found it soothing then, comforting to reflect on her inner descriptions. It wasnt until many years later, in college, that she discovered it was often viewed as part of deep self meditation to seek out ones inner identity. Amelia came across this as her class was discussing the hierarchy of needs, and conversed upon the highest tier of selfactualization. Real Psych 101 material, yet it connected her own actions to a concrete book based theory and that joining of abstracts produced something whole in her. It was at that point that she began to devote more effort into higher education; maybe the more theories she took in the more she could explain her mental ministrations as a youth. Furthermore 1

and most excitedly, perhaps the more she studied in the world of theoreticals the more she could actually discover about her mind that she wasnt even aware of at the moment. The path she explored then, is truly how she found her way into becoming a doctor of creative and contemporary literature. Thusly she was discouraged to find that her bracingly cool shower had failed to bring the blanket of steam in which she used to sew her self-image together. Measuring up her expression staring back at her Amelia leant forward slowly, methodically probing her image for discrepancies. Not physically of course, those were easy to see day to day, her nose on one side was just a little bit more sloped than the other, her eyebrows at fractionally different bends from the left being raised so often. At some points in her life she could be described as mousy, but always assured that it was merely cutely so. No it was the search for her internal self, the daily assessment of changes and growth from that of yesterday. We each grow a little bit each day, with each passing experience, so it stands to reason that we would be just a little bit different every passing morning. Sound reasoning enough for Amelia especially. She could tell something this morning was askew, not out of place, but present yet idiosyncratically off; and that was more frightening than a blaring difference. It was almost as if she were looking into a strangers eyes, it looked like her sure enough, but it hardly seemed like her. Whos there? she prodded the mirror creature, alluding to the first line spoken in Hamlet. When in doubt fall back on what you know right? For Amelia that was literature and Suddenly venturing an idea she took slow preparatory breaths through her constricted throbbing lungs and breathed out onto the mirror in front of her. Satisfied with the result she took a moment to ease her labored breaths. Staring there at the patchy reflection she couldnt help but consider the vast difference between steaming and fogged. Steam was strong, powering turbines and proactively useful. Being fogged hinders progress, it hides the truth, distorts the world around it. So gazing upon the being in the mirror she grew frustrated that nothing discerning was coming from the blank patch of fog she had used so much of her precious breath to make. In the end all she could muster is a hastily drawn ? next to the mirror beings face. Damnit she muttered, hardly one to curse but there are times where nothing else vents the strain of human emotions. Angered with herself, Amelia braced her hands onto the cold porcelain of the sink and peered even closer into the mirror Amelias gaze, never faltering till she was nearly bumping noses with her other self. She glowered at the sandy brown haired stranger, who merely seemed to gaze back challengingly. Scrutinizing those eyes with increasing intensity, she felt the edges of her vision blur and darken as it does when one focuses strenuously. Moments dragged by as Amelia analyzed every point of the reflection, desperately seeking what had had her so off kilter. When her vision blurred out all else but those green blue irises she had memorized time and time again, when the darkness crept further from the corner of her sight to damn near crop the mirrored irises in not only focus now, but light; something shifted. It wasnt something in the room, it wasnt even her head or body, it was something in the deepest color of those eyes. Something shifted like a bubble breaking the surface of a pond, and Amelia jumped so violently it shook the entire vanity and felt as if she had left her heart pumping phantom absent blood all over the tile below. So perhaps her exercises in self actualization at such an early time in the morning was ill advised. Alright, she sighed as she grabbed her keys and wrapped her woolen coat tightly around herself for perhaps the millionth time. We humans, not only are our psyches so deranged that we 2

pacify the tortures brought upon us, but we create these endless rituals for ourselves, whether conscious or subconsciously, that at an agonizingly slow pace wear our souls down into an empty husk. Amelia shook her head decisively, staggered at her own stream of consciousness. Had her breathing problems been persisting for so long now that theyve slated control of her mental stasis? Dear lord, sure shed been criticized by her mother for her cynicism but had she been coping with this condition for so long that shes now fallen into the blackened despair that is nihilism? Seriously, ending up in such a dark place over grabbing your keys? she scolded herself. Honestly if she persisted down such a thorny path she might as well call herself Quentin Compson and get a pocket watch and some gasoline. And really, this whole throwing yourself into your work thing has not been helping, at all she thinks grimacing at just how easily these allusions are flowing from her. The tight wrapping of the seatbelt around her fills some sense of emptiness in her as she is getting into her car and hopefully getting away from the morning she has just had. The metallic clack of the handle echoed throughout the deserted hall as Amelia stoically pulled down on it and swung open the door. During her own days at university that sound had always carried with it a feel of the interminably infinite stretch that is ones educational process. A feeling that still lingered with her after returning, even as an instructor. The door gave way to release the unmistakable musty, heavily laden smell of academia from its binds within the collegent classroom. Seems crazy, but really theres no other scent in this world thats like it. That smell of a classroom, hell even a lecture hall, is so dividing from everything else Every day she would be bombarded with the heady presence of it all. The books and manuscripts with their stale mossy starch lining shelf after shelf corning the room, echoes of dust, thrown from blackboards permeated the air around her. The preening greens of the classroom abundant, chalkboards, carpets, even desk chairs. The disingenuous facade of the desks themselves, lamenent wood grain, ironed over flaked particle board. All of this invaded the fibers of her very being. The must of academia rushed into her nostrils and sweltered her lungs. She gasped, but it was a short hitch of breath, feeling as if the air had hit a wall within her. She wrestled once more to infuse her starving lungs with oxygen only to find another barrier inside of her blocking the sustenance. The stale aroma infuses her passages, chokes her with its weight. Amelia doubled over, white knuckled hand grasping flush against the edge of her desk, struggling with the immense weight settling in her abdomen. It felt as if there were an enormous anchor dragging her further down into the depths. Until in a sporadic fit of coughing her chest finally heaved inward and filled with air. She was at long last able to clear the silt that had settled to the bottom of her mind. Hey Prof! just then sounded from the still open doorway, revealing her teaching assistant Eliza wearing what was admittedly a contagious smile. Amelia responded with a small quirk of the corner of her lips, as influential as her teaching assistants smiles were, it was a near impossible job to overcome the suffocating episode she had just escaped. Good morning Eliza Amelia replied drawing out each word with care, attempting to mask her lack of breath from her bright-eyed studious apprentice.

She was able to dance around it this once, only receiving a barely discernable snap of an eyebrow in questioning. So, Eliza began turning to swing her bag over her head and placing it at a smaller desk towards the side of the room Whats on the agenda for today? Amelia had to smile then, of all the TAs she had had the experience to work with; Eliza far surpassed even the best of them. She was always so eager to discuss such deep philosophical ideas, and was sharper than many of the professors in her department, though damned if they ever heard that. Well, well be going over the esoteric exisistenitalism of post-feudal era poetry she answered without so much of a pause. She had to admit that, embarrassingly, she was a closet geek for English sonnets. So the misunderstood selfishness of renaissance whining? Eliza paraphrased back in amusement. Essentially was the earnest agreement she was accustomed to receiving throughout the semester. Eliza had to chuckle, if only to herself for a moment. Standing there, taking in Professor Moore, she couldnt help but marvel at the wondrous if not downright intriguing woman in front of her. Over the course of the class Eliza had made special notice of her Professor, and was compelled to learn as much about Amelia as she possibly could. There was just something so drawing about her, perhaps it was the outward, and adorable, contradiction of her person. Sure Professor Moore was commanding and exuded such sureness around the classroom, striding about and speaking so assuredly on the subjects. But as Eliza had come to discover, Amelia herself had grown up the quintessential bookworm. During most of her earlier educational endeavors she had been quiet, shy, even withdrawn at times. Eliza could remember one of her first thoughts after hearing of such as my my, how could I not have seen it before. At 31 years old, Amelia was quite attractive in a charming mousy sort of way. She usually wore her hair straight and ponytailed and her black framed glasses extenuated her eyes while at the same time helped in addition to her bangs to hide her expressions. Altogether she was the burning introvert that youd long to pull her across the floor and teach her so very many things that werent in books. Searing your lips to hers until her eyes widened in utter understanding of the universal truths of pleasure. Oh, Eliza was hopelessly in love with women, did she forget to mention this? Well its just like her, brilliant mind, but getting desperately lost within her own daydreams. The more passionate ones save for her own private enjoyment. A girl has to have a sense of confidentiality. Youre up teach she spoke finally, lightly tossing Amelia a copy of the collection they would be going over that day. Amelia caught it with some difficulty in trying not to bend the edges, and set it down onto the surface of the desk. She glanced over to her TA and took in her appearance with everlasting fascination. Eliza wore near knee length boots, dressy even if a bit overt, with the laces crisscrossing through almost every eyelet all the way to the top. Beneath she donned solid leggings rising into a practical skirt and topped with a fitted button up blouse, all of which were different shades of off muted blacks. More strikingly was Elizas tasteful purple eye shadow, easily noticed behind her stylish frameless glasses. Distinguished, with class, normality with just a tinge of darkness was what Amelia had assessed on her first day. Though she found it normal with most 24 year olds she knew. 4

Part of her wondered what that shadowy streak held, but she was never overly inclined to give it much further contemplation. Work tends to consume ones free computing head space. So, why is it mandatory that literary oriented people have to make everything so complicated? Eliza questioned, crossing one leg over the other and tapping her pen against her lips in a convoluted attempt to draw Amelias attention there. Im sure I dont know what you mean Amelia answered while sorting out her notes before the grads arrived for class. I mean, must everything be in stream of consciousness, or written in some intellectual code? Sure its great for artistic sake, but why should that apply to every piece of classic literature written? Eliza continued her thoughts. Amelia smiled and simply shook her head, true the girl had a point, albeit a hyperbolically generalized one, but it made sense. Mostly it was for writers, men and women both, to show off she finally replied with a knowing smirk. Eliza laughed breathily in return, throwing her hands up in exasperation, See! Was that so hard to admit? Oh yes, Amelia countered feigning distress sardonically, a veritable dimension of torture she teased. Eliza beamed with the ruse, grateful that she was able to bring a bit of positive emotion to her dear professor. Lately she had noticed something properly off about Professor Moore, and it worried her expotentially as time passed forth. Class went on as usual, Amelia treading through the rows inquiring about the readings, pausing occasionally to read from the text itself for a moment. Eliza could do nothing but watch as this endearing woman relished in her element. Somehow it was apparent that this was one of the few places where Amelia was truly comfortable, at ease with herself. It was with this thought that Eliza could tell that something had been seriously wrong as of late. Normally the Professor exuded confidence and transitioned seamlessly into the classroom setting, but lately she had been Disconnected maybe? she considered, searching for the right words to describe what she was seeing in front of her. It just looked as if Professor Moore was a ghost moving through the motions aimlessly, she seemed defeated, uncertain. Her hazel eyes which normally sparkled with intrigue, though shyly averted downward most of the time, now strained exhaustedly over dark circles. But what could be bothering her so strong willed professor? Whoa, my strong Professor? Slow the train there girl she admonished herself; Amelias darkened state seemed to be bringing out her caretaking nature. She wanted nothing more than to embrace Amelia as tightly as she could and infuse her with whatever she was missing. Wait, missing. Thats what it is! Eliza exclaimed to herself. Professor Moore looked as if something enormous, something immensely necessary was absent from her. However her epiphany was met with a remorseful abject sigh, Eliza ached to give Amelia anything that she needed, but it simply wasnt her place; neither as a TA nor a pining lover. But she realized with an eager smirk, that doesnt mean that I cant help at all. Alright everyone, chapters seven through nine for tomorrow alright? Amelias voice broke into Elizas reverie, startling the girl with just how fast class had gone by.

She decided something there, gathering her belongings while the grad students filed out without so much as a casting glance. Amelia stuffed her files into the leather bag, eager to get out of the suddenly small classroom. A small noise caught her attention causing her to turn in that direction, and there was Eliza standing closer than Amelia could remember her ever doing before. An encompassing heat seemed to stem from Elizas presence there, a dull throbbing warmth not unlike a crackling fire or a blast from an industrial heater. Amelia could feel her cheeks tingling and gasped with the feeling of it all. Oddly the sharp intake of air didnt smell of the overbearing lecture room, but citrus fruit and cool rain. Eliza was undoubtedly a breath of fresh air to her already weary lungs. Y-yes? she managed out. Eliza simply gazed at her, sharp chocolate irises focusing solely on her trying to will the answers from her being. Amelia stood frighteningly still and tried to ignore the tugging feeling pulling at her stomach. You know who my favorite poet is? Eliza asked, seemingly out of the blue. I wouldnt even venture a guess, there are so many for a bright girl such as yourself. Inwardly smiling Eliza pressed on, Edmund Spenser she proclaimed sliding just a little further closer to Amelia. O-oh? And why is that? Amelia responded hoping to maintain composure. Hes often criticized for his simplistic sonnet styles, but within those sonnets he packs so much love and emotion theyre practically bursting at the seams she finished. Amelia couldnt help but feel a deep admiration for the girl, she totally had her head in the right place. That is a wonderful reason Eliza she complimented. There was another silent moment then, with Eliza scrutinizing Amelia with another heated gaze trying to find some small semblance of an answer. Remember what I said Professor, things dont always need to be as complicated as they seem she finally spoke, and ambled slowly out the door and disappeared into the crowd in the hall. Elizas raw sincerity had remained far after she herself had left, a brand on Amelias heart. She was so lucky to have such a good friend in Eliza. Amelias uplifted mood was short-lived as the fresh air that Eliza had brought left with her or was swallowed up once more by the stale aging smell of rotting books. Amelia coughed and quickly fled the room anxious to get back home and shut out the world for awhile. Even the lock was extremely loud as it turned and she pulled the door open meekly. Shuffling into the living room she tossed her keys onto the end table, her leather bag followed next as it dropped dully to the carpet next to the couch, and finally her coat was tossed haphazardly towards the chair on the corner, missing it by a bit it came to a rest on the floor. Amelia languidly slid onto the couch staring up at the ceiling for all of a minute before sleep overtook her. Whaaaaat?? she groaned out as she was wretched from her rest by the shrill ringing of her cellphone. Finally comprehending that the phone couldnt understand she rolled onto her stomach, nearly rolling right of the sofa, and rummaged through her leather bag for her phone. She reached it just in time answering before voicemail could pick up. ello? was her mumbled reply. Amelia? Are you alright? You do know what time it is, dont you? her friend Joyces voice rang out from the headset. 6

The words had meaning, she knew this, but damn if she knew how to connect them. Blinking rapidly she eyed the time on her phone and was able to connect the pieces. She was supposed to have dinner with Joyce at a restaurant downtown in fifteen minutes. Laughing as Amelia cursed and ruffled around to gather her bearings Joyce told her not to worry and that she was able to get a later reservation. After giving her word to be there in under half an hour she hung up and went to the bathroom to pelt herself with cold water. Amelia hey! she heard nearly immediately after walking into the entryway of the establishment. For a split second her sleep deprived brain brought up the sense of Elizas voice saying it in just such a manner. Quickly hiding her tiny disappointment that it wasnt who her brain had led her to believe it was, she was pulled into a tight hug by her friend. It was great to be out with a friend again, she hadnt really socialized since her anxiety problems had started at the beginning of the semester. However she had to admit that it was bittersweet as getting back out there showed her just how far she had fallen in contentment. She looked out at all the laughing happy couples, groups of friends so close, and she knew deep down that she had none of that. Shes not glowing, shes empty. The fancy delicious food shes eating tasting like nothing but ash in her mouth. Amelia, whats wrong hun? she heard Joyce question from across the small table. Immediately she went into the defense mode shed built up over the semester, Huh? What do you mean?she answered the rehearsed phrase. But Joyce would have none of it, and when Amelia saw the trademark brow rise, she knew there was no escaping the inquisition of her friend. It wasnt the grating questioning she had come to expect from Joyce, but rather a soft leading interview. Ame, she began, using her special nickname that only Joyce was allowed to utter, Im not going to grill you, but you havent been right for awhile now, and Im just worried to death about you Youre normally so sharp, and lately it seems like youve had trouble remembering what day of the week it is she finished. I just havent been sleeping all that well Amelia answered off quickly hoping that that would deter her caring friend. No such luck. Its more than that Ame, for months its been like this. You seem like youre just going through the motions, hollow even. Shocked, Amelia couldnt even fathom a response at how right Joyce was. There wouldnt be any wiggling out of this one. You know, Joyce began in her usual worrying tone, a good night in bed always fills me right up with sunshine and rainbows she finished, confirming what Amelia had suspected would be her point. This was her friend that shed known since high school, and the normalcy of it burned. Joyce! she reprimanded, the smirk tugging across her lips depleted her sternness. Oh come on Ame, you cant tell me that there isnt someone special youve thought about? Joyce prodded. Amelia shook her head and blushed, No there really hasnt, everything has been so rushed, the only time I feel normal is in class. Ah, yes. With your TA, whats her name, Miss Eliza hm? The surprising unabashed suggestion of Joyces comment cause Amelia to nearly spit take the white wine she had took a sip of. 7

Joyce! this time there was a hint of astonishment. What! she challenged, but wouldnt back down. But Joyce Im a she began. A what, a human Amelia? Everyone has desires, needs and not just bedroom needs thank you very much she sniffed. What Im saying is, love is love, sex is sex, and a person is a person regardless of whatequipment theyre sporting. Nearly choking on a biscuit that had nothing to do with her breathing condition Amelia returned a weak nod. In all the time this has been going on, the only time Ive seen you remotely happy is when you talk about Eliza. How sharp she is, how she challenges you, makes you a better teacher, a better person. All Im saying is that dont you at least owe it to yourself to try? She held up her hand gently when Amelia tried to answer. You have nothing to lose and everything to gain. Do you really want to keep living like this? Numb to everything good around you? That is no way to live, and nothing Id ever want for you Ame she finished, trying to contain the moister held in her eyes. Amelias own tears slid gently down her face as she smiled and hugged Joyce to her. Thank you, so much for being my friend. The rest of dinner went especially well, Amelia still had so many doubts swirling within her, but there was a weight lifted off of her. Accordingly her and Joyce continued with the post heart to heart celebration and managed to finish a second bottle of wine together. Amelia stumbled into the doorway, not drunk, but not necessarily sober either. A vortex of endless thoughts barreled around in her head. She had no idea what to do, an occurrence that was unusual for her but one that she had become well aware of these past months. Could she really think that way of Eliza? She hadnt ever given this kind of subject any thought. I mean Ive never thought that there was anything wrong with it, its just as normal as liking anyone else, butme? I havent ever considered myself in such a way But instead of pontificating more on her own being, her thoughts strayed to Eliza. Joyce had never met the girl, yet was able to describe part of what she meant to Amelia, had she really spoken about Eliza that much? Sure she had never met any girl with such a wondrous mind, eager to discuss and debate, who saw things for what they were and not what other professionals made them out to be. But thats just what youve been thinking about lately Amelia scowled and tried to go a little further. She envisioned the way that Elizas eyes glowed, perfectly emphasized by her stylish chic frameless glasses. So smooth, just like her how her angled cut hair cascaded down to the very tips of her chest. Amelia was secretly enthralled with how her sleek dark clothes seemed custom tailored by some Italian god himself. All of this paled in comparison, she knew, to that look Eliza got when she knew that she was onto something. That carefree smirk that would have legions of people falling upon their knees, happy to do so. As her thoughts became more physical she tried to gauge how it made her feel, she wasnt drooling and utterly captivated, but it wasnt such a horrible feeling. Maybe its the sparkling wine she muttered before passing out in her clothes onto the bed.

Shed like to say that there are no words for what its like to practically die each and every morning. That it is always a horrendous and mind shattering experience, but she couldnt. After so long it simply becomesinconvenient. That is more frightening to her now than suffocating could ever be. Trying to get out of bed and changed out of her dinner clothes was arduous enough, which didnt leave much time to think about what the day would be like seeing Eliza after what had occurred over dinner last night. Amelia pulled her car into the same parking spot shed used daily, and braced herself for the blustering morning that awaited her. Trudging briskly to class she pulled her woolen jacket tighter across her chest as the chilled winter air swirled against her, praying to whatever god would still take pity on a despondent soul such as hers that the warmth of a new season would soon come, though it seemed to be a far away wish. Amelia found herself thinking as she willed one foot in front of the other, it was a long way and miles to go before I sleep she scoffed wearily. Entering into the classroom she nervously set her bag down, the whole morning had been a rush and she hadnt prepared herself for what shed do when Eliza walked in. Luckily enough, at least as far as Amelias luck ran, shed been running a bit late and so there had only been time enough to bid Eliza good morning before the students came filing in. Class went fairly well, but Amelia kept feeling her gaze pulled towards the girl sitting towards the side wearing the black pinstriped slacks and encouraging smile. The clock ran further and further down and Amelia grew apprehensive of what course of action would be best when talking with Eliza. Finally the lecture concluded, the longest one of the semester actually. It was just a Professor and her TA left. Amelia, knees slightly wobbling, turned and leant against her desk for support. Amelia gazed at Eliza as they stood in the silence of the room; even in the glowing florescent light she looked stunning. Her heart felt as if it were about to burst from her chest. The warm and carefree mood gave her more courage than she had ever had in the past. She could feel the words in her throat once more, yearning to break free. They pressed eagerly at her lips, as if they could will them to finally move into the words. Hey Eliza? she questioned. This was it; could she really be starting this sentence? Could she actually be speaking what she had been thinking for the longest time? Eliza could tell that something was different, from the moment that Amelia had walked into the room there was a different energy about her. Aside from that Eliza would have sworn she saw Amelia glance at her on more than one occasion during the lecture. Maybe this was it? Maybe Eliza would get a chance to sweep Amelia off her feet, to chase away all of whatever was haunting her. Amelia saw the glistening look in Elizas eyes, the way she wrung her hands when she was thinking of something heavily, it was adorable even now to her. Could she do this? Could she afford to fail and live a numb life, forever and ever? Eliza I was wondering if you ever thought, thought about Elizas heart fluttered a thousand ways from Tuesday, her breath caught and she could feel the air rushing through her ears. Please she begged whatever divine being that ran their lives. about perhaps teaching a lecture or two before the end of the semester? Amelia finished, cursing herself for being such a damn coward. She watched with rapt attention as Elizas face fell, and the shine in her eyes dimmed, feeling horrible but not looking away, no this was her punishment for being so afraid. 9

Um, well yes, that would be very nice. Thank you Professor Eliza murmured, before gathering her bag onto her shoulder and walking out into the hall. Damn Amelia muttered, slamming the dusty volume closed with a snap. Maybe it was the dust, or maybe it was something else but immediate her chest seized up and she could feel every airway she had collapse in on themselves. Its a strange feeling, when you think youve been dying for months, and you come to realize that actually dying is much, much worse. Partly it was a relief that she hadnt simply gotten used to suffocating, but mostly the sheer overwhelming terror that filled her stomach outshined that silver lining. Things seemed to move slower and slower, her body felt heavy and her limbs so tired. She tried taking desperate breaths inward but it was no use. The edges of her vision clouded first, then became darker, darkening enough to hardened into blackness. Eventually the blackness consumed her entire vision and she felt herself crash onto the floor, not the pain part, but just the pressure of it. Blackness fully enveloped her. Eliza was there then, holding her hand whispering soft words to her, she simply went to hold Amelias other hand but had to pull slightly back to do it. No, dont let goever Amelia whispered. Never Eliza returned. She felt the electricity surge as Eliza unhurriedly cradled her into her chest, the near searing heat of her body and the encompassing warmth of the bedspread sheltering her once and for all from the cold and filling her head with nothing asunder. She was running through the gardens behind the college. The soft scent of growing life rising all around her, and she felt the power, the essence, enter into her. She was soaring above the tops of the trees of the worlds forests. Her body unimaginably weightless with the flight, the wind contoured to her form as she flew towards the tips of the trees. Each individual leaf craned themselves skyward toward the light, to reach out and nestle themselves across her passing flesh gently. The life within her building, a pressure of bliss rose to join it. She was everywhere and nowhere. She was in Elizas arms and in everything. She was paddling through the endless expanse of ocean before her. The surging water connecting her to everyplace the infinite waves led. The pressure was building even still; now straining against her, but the more it fabricated the exponentially stronger the bliss coursed. She sifted downward in-between worlds, suspended between the two glimmering planes of existence in a place of clouds and color. Closing her eyes, her breath quickened with the pulsing of life still tugging within her. Her eyes opened to a starlit heaven above her, soft cool grass lulling the lustrous expanse of her limbs. The stars glittered in a performance only she recognized, and the moon gleamed brightly for her eyes only. The scent of all around her was transduced into the completely intoxicating aroma of citrus fruit and cool rain. It filled her mind causing the blissful pressure to build greater and greater until she felt as if she would burst or become the feeling itself. The euphoric ecstasy burst outward, rocketing her into the stratosphere, the stars penetrating through her very being with coursing spasms. Everywhere and nowhere, she was cradled in her lovers arms. With a sickening sob Amelia realized that all of this would never come to pass. She would never get to experience the pure bliss she had just witnessed. All because she had been blind, blind to what she had been lacking. Amelia? she heard a loud booming voice. She opened her eyes to be greeted with the worn maroon of the abysmal classroom carpet. Turning over on the floor she saw her, Eliza was there fresh tears in her eyes. She was afraid where minutes ago she had been in no hurry. Why? Why must the fates send her to this fresh hell 10

before she passed fully on. Surely her cowardice before death was enough. Why must she be trapped in this purgatory, with a hurting Eliza? Eliza she responded, gathering the non-existence energy she was given to by the fates she shakily rose to her chair. Amelia I Eliza began, but Amelia held up a single hand. I cant do this anymore Eliza, she began breathless from her climb, I literally cannot take this weight, and I cannot take what this is doing to you, even if it isnt real. Isnt wha Again the girl was stopped short. Please, I need to say this, if not for me, than for you. Im pretty sure Joyce was right, I never got to find out for certain, but I wish with everything I had that I could have had the chance to. Maybe then this could have been for the better. I, I dont understand Eliza croaked, she was truly afraid now, nothing Amelia was saying was making an sense. I think that I may have loved you Eliza Amelia spoke meeting her gaze with a warm caring one. Loved? What about now? Amelias brow furrowed, Well I guess I pass on, or maybe Im trapped here until I figure everything out she speculated. Then, Eliza laughed. It started out as a hiccup, even a squeak and progressed into heaving gulps of laughter. She bent forward holding herself together for fear of laughing herself into pieces. Part relief, part just plain amazement at the woman before her. You think youre dead? she asked Amelia when she finally settled. Of course! Amelia replied as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. Come here Eliza said, and something in her voice stirred heat into the very center of Amelias chest. Slowly she stood, and unsurely made her way to Eliza who remained still, her arms outstretched in pleading welcome. When she was fully embraced within them, she felt an immensely sharp pain on her arm. What the hell? she cried out, staring at Eliza in disbelief. The dead dont feel pain Amelia were the girls only words. The implication of them hit Amelia full on, and she staggered a bit only to be cushioned in the grasp of Eliza. Im not, not dead? she whimpered. No, no youre not love. Amelia broke down into tears then, all the weight that was on her had fallen away. Eliza gently lifted her chin, and met Amelias eyes with her own. Remember what I said about the basics? Sometimes they tell you everything you need to know Eliza stared into her eyes for a moment her lips slightly parted brushing against her own. Eliz-a Amelia breathed and before she knew what had happened her lips were pressed against Elizas. It was a million times better than her dreams could ever create, better than what her mind had begged for in her arms moments before. Heat barreled from Elizas lips into hers and crashed in waves of pleasure from her mouth all the way to her toes. Her hand snaked up and wrapped itself in Elizas black hair.

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Elizas hand still held her chin lightly, and she pulled Amelias lips tighter to her. Her touch was more than Amelia could have ever imagined, she shuddered against her as the tender yet unyielding grasp of her hand and the enveloping gentle embrace of her fingers under her chin cradled her in a feeling of pure bliss. A new and never before experienced feeling of ecstasy exploded in her as Elizas tongue met hers lightly, teasingly. Her tongue, however, forcefully met Elizas. She pulled herself tighter against her and wrapped her other arm around her neck. She was almost crying it felt so good, every muscle in her body ached to hold Eliza tighter, she didnt know how much longer her body could take it but she never wanted it to stop. But as quickly as it had come the passionate kiss ended. Amelia stared into Elizas eyes with a look of pure longing and genuine devotion. And you know what basics Im thinking of now? Eliza retorted. Amelia simply shook her head. All this worlds glory seemeth vain to me, all of their shows but shadows, saving she. You. Eliza finished with the line from her favorite poet, the one they had discussed just the day before. Then she placed her lips back onto Amelias. As Eliza kissed her, Amelia could feel the life coming from Eliza, tumbling into her. Elizas breath became her own, it was as if Eliza was breathing her life into her. Literally for the first time in nearly six months she felt her breath come easily. Her lungs went unhindered; she could gasp with the pleasure of it all and still have so much more air to spend. She could breath! Finally, she could breathe. Finally she was true to herself.

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