Rage

It was another dream. It was the same dream.

I was screaming and screaming at the side of the building, my hands grappling with the open air above Third Avenue.

My eyes moved from the heavens to the city below and I watched Brett's body descend peacefully through the sky.

He was falling again.

I was screaming again.

I could never stop it.

Paul covered my mouth to stop the sound…

---

"Jake." The sound of my name rang through my pounding head, bouncing off the inside of my skull. I was already awake – I had been for hours – but I didn't want my girlfriend to know that. Not this morning. I needed this morning by myself.

So I pretended to be asleep.

She whispered my name once more but I made no response. My carefully regulated breathing lied to her and she left my side, pulling her robe from the chair next to our bed and shuffling out of the room. As soon as she'd closed the door I let my eyes flutter open. My eyelids peeled themselves back until my eyes were as wide as they could get. I wanted no chance to relive the dream in my waking hours.

I lay in bed for God knows how long before she came back.

"Jake," she said again, her voice firmer this time, "are you just going to lie in bed all day? It's already one o'clock."

I didn't answer her. I wanted her to go away.

"Jake," she demanded. "Jake."

"What, Corinne?" I asked in resignation. I turned my face away from her and focused my eyes on the wall as a long pause settled between us.

"You dreamt about him again?"

I shrugged. I was reluctant to admit that Brett still plagued my thoughts. When my friend had first died I'd had nightmares about reliving his death several times a night. Now, eight years later, I still dreamt about him every other night without fail. It was always the same dream: I was screaming, Paul was covering my mouth, and Brett was falling.

"Maybe you should see a doctor," Corinne said, suddenly breaking through my reverie. She knew better than anyone about the dreams I had. It was a shame she couldn't figure out how not to annoy me. Between my lack of sleep and the constant thoughts of my dead friend, I was one step away from kicking her to the curb. It didn't help that she always second guessed any decision I made about myself.

Sometimes, I got the feeling that she thought I was incompetent.

I sat up in bed and whipped my head around to stare her in the eyes.

"And what would happen then, huh?" I snarled at her. "I know what'd happen. They'd ask me to get a bunch of useless tests done and I'd probably have to do about six sleep studies and all that would come out of it is a box of prescription sleeping pills that I'd have to take for months and that I'd probably become addicted to. Christ, Corinne, do you want me to end up like Paul?" My girlfriend looked sheepishly away from me and for a moment I felt guilty for attacking her, but then I didn't care. She was irritating and I was angry. I hadn't slept in a decade and it was all because my asshole friend had to trip off a roof.

I was pissed. I was hurt.

I was fucking broken.

I buried my face in my hands and drew my knees to my chest as all these realizations swept over me at once. Before I could stop myself, I was wracked with sobs. My body quivered with the force of my sorrow and I lost myself at once. I barely felt Corinne's touch on my back as she tried to comfort me. All I could think about was my lack of sleep and Brett.

Then, all at once, I became aware of everything that was touching me, everything that was around me. I was so hypersensitive to my surroundings I thought I was going to explode and the final trigger was Corinne's nails on the back of my neck. She was trying to soothe me but it felt as though she'd touched my final trigger.

In an instant, I swung out my right arm and backhanded her. The force of the blow struck her so hard that she was turned away from me and fell gasping to the floor, the bedsheets tangled around her waist. She lay there on her stomach, trying to catch the breath that had been knocked out of her. For a moment I was so shocked at myself that I couldn't even move.

Then I felt rage.

I leapt off the bed and grabbed one of Corinne's legs. I pulled her body toward mine with such anger and force that I surprised myself, but the boiling heat of my fury was cleansing. I could feel the anger slowly burning out all the debris that Brett's death had left within my heart and soul. I grabbed Corinne's arm, giving no thought to her safety, and flipped her over onto her back.

"Jake, I'm sorry. Jake, stop," she demanded, her voice wavering with fear. Hearing her terrified words only incensed me further and I pulled back my right arm before letting my fist fly.

I punched her as hard as I could in the face.

"Jake, no! Please stop! Jake!" she screamed but I kept punching her over and over again, feeling her high cheekbones and perfect forehead slowly give way to my knuckles. The more I punched her the more the raging fire in me burned and the purer I felt, so I punched and punched until the human head beneath my hand was reduced to a pile of bloody brainy mush.

When I was finally able to stop myself, Corinne was unrecognizable. She had ceased flailing long ago but I had continued my assault just to keep the fire within me alive. I had finally found a way to forever kill the remains of Brett that had lodged within me.