They've been speaking to me again. I thought I had gotten over it. The therapy seemed to work. Imagine the pain as words written on a board, the doctor had told me. And when you're ready, wipe them away.
I wanted something more. The doctor suggested I might try something a little more drastic. I agreed and with a strap in my mouth and more on my limbs, I found peace. The electroshock withdrew my mind from this world, not only wiping the board clean, but slamming the erasers together. All of the awfulness scattered into the blissful nothing.
With the doctor's blessing, I went back to work. I said I forgot what happened. But that's not true. And I'm telling you now that I lied to you, too. I did remember what happened all those miles away on the mountain. They won't let me forget. They send me dreams to ensure that it's quite impossible.
In the most recent, the trains went by. Always going. Even after the station had closed. I tried to focus on the newspaper, but the words didn't make sense. I closed one eye, then tried the other. They were still letters, I think. It's all so hard to describe. I tried to keep my heart still. It would pass. Just like the trains. Click. Clack. Squeal. Hiss. But then the hissing made sense where the typed words hadn't. I smelled the chalk dust that should have faded away.
Two lights, the front of another train coming down the tunnel. Why was I standing on the edge of the platform? The train's horn honked and I stepped back in time for its sleek steel snake body to blow past me. The doors opened. Empty cars as far as I could see. No one getting on or off. No conductor. No ticket man with his hole punch.
Someone cleared their throat behind me. I turned to see a man, the newspaper I had left held up in front of his face. "So sorry, sir," I said. I wasn't sure if that's actually what I said. Had no way of knowing if I was babbling gibberish. He only tapped his finger against the paper impatiently.
I got out the shine and a rag. I spread the black paste around the sides of his shoes. The train still hadn't left. Maybe some mechanical issue. I carried on shining the man's shoes. I knew these shoes. But didn't all shoes look more or less the same?
I buffed and wiped. I scrubbed so hard they squeaked. And in the squeaking squeal I heard it. "You don't get to forget."
"Pardon?" I asked, not looking up at the man. I passed the rag over the toe. In its newly shined surface I saw the train compartment behind me. Someone stood in its door, obstructing the light.
"It's time we made it back," the man said. I knew the voice. I had heard it so often, for so long. The voice that had invited me on an expedition. An adventure.
"You're all finished," I said, standing. I felt breath on my neck. I screwed my eyes shut and held out my hand, waiting for the coin.
Instead I felt flesh. Still warm but growing cold. I began to cry. The erasers were sucking up the dust they had scattered. They scurried back up the blackboard and with each swipe revealed the letters to words that finally made sense again.
"One would have done," the chalk letters said.
Tears climbed out from under my eyelids and fell to their death on the subway tile. The hand in mine squeezed it tightly, lovingly.
I couldn't stare at the words anymore, so I opened my eyes. He stood in front of me as I had left him in the snow, a shroud over his face and coins placed on his eyes. The frost had claimed several of his fingers. But he was missing more than the frost could take blame for.
"I tried," I said, coughing on the sob and wretch that racked my throat. "I had to-"
"I know," he said. "But it's time to go." He had no shoes now. No clothes at all. They were all on me. I had needed them then, but now I sweat and was so hot I couldn't breathe.
He led me onto the train, where our other companion stood. His eyes were uncovered, and stared at me, as they had after his death. They watched me. Accused me.
The inside of the train had fabric walls. The wind howled and ripped at the cloth. We sat on a single seat now, trying to keep warm. The wind was saying something. Calling to us. Snow piled up past the windows.
"We'll make it back down," the first said, his teeth chattering beneath the cloth. "The storm will pass. You'll see." But then he grew still, as he had that night. "I'm sorry for dragging us out here," he had said, clutching my hand. Tears had frozen to his cheeks.
The second made to take the first's clothes. It was happening all over again. I shoved him away. He suggested something horrid. Something the chalk screamed against the board to drown out. He drew a knife from its sheath. "He would want us to," he said.
"Don't make me," I pleaded. But he was already tugging the clothes from the other. He mentioned where we might harvest just enough to survive. I jumped up and threw him to the ground. I placed my knees on his arms so he couldn't swing the knife. I wrested it from his hand. He screamed and kicked. The knife went down, cutting through his heavy coat, his breast, his ribcage, then came to rest in his heart. I leaned against it with all my weight, crying through gritted teeth.
I put it off as long as I could. I wept and screamed about it. Prayed for any kind of deliverance. I could have done it myself but I didn't want to go to hell. How foolish. Now I know I was already there. I took from each of them. It all made me sick, but I continued. I cursed my coward's insistence on survival.
The train doors shuddered closed. "Where are we going?" I asked.
"Back there," the first said. "We're stuck and it's only fair you are too."
"Alright," I said solemnly. It made sense.
The train lurched and began to move again. We plunged into darkness and the train wobbled as it careened down into the tunnel.
Light poured in through the windows in a blinding flash. The doors opened and revealed the snowy cliff face. The second stood and disembarked. The first's hand slid into mine again. The shroud about his head grazed my face and the coins were cold against my cheek as he leaned closer. "Maybe we'll make it down one day."
I woke as I always do, with the same terror, my bed clothes drenched in sweat. I checked every dark door frame and closet for the two of them. I wish they were ever there. Then I might not have to do what I have to do.
Talking hasn't helped. And now when the electricity runs through my skull, I only end up back on the train. Like it, I'm on a track, you see. I have one destination at the end of the line. So maybe you'll understand why I've booked passage back to that horrid place. Maybe you'll forgive me, since they aren't able to.
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