Chapter 4
KAE
Istare at my watch in disbelief.
For the first time in months, by some miracle, I slept through a full night. Not once did I wake up from nightmares. Only pure, beautiful, magnificent silence. I’m almost crying in joy—until I remember what I experienced before I went home.
“Fuck.” I crash my face back into my pillow.
I want to believe it wasn’t real, but my raging denial clashes with the vivid images still fresh in my mind. A golden man with a smile like pearls and diamonds, sunlight born in his eyes, the most glorious wings with their little flutter-flutter…
I don’t think I can keep this to myself. I need to tell someone. Anyone. Even if they think I’ve lost it, because maybe I have. Maybe I’ll go to a Catholic confessional booth and see how the old priest reacts to my story.
Hey, Father. What’s up? Um, I know I didn’t believe in God before—still kinda can’t get down with the whole concept yet—but apparently, angels are real.
How do I know? Well, one cornered me last night in my work’s dingy parking garage and admitted to torturing me with nightmares all year.
Also, your prophesied “end of days” are finally here, and they want me to open the gates to a secret monster hiding place so they can… fight the devil or whatever. TBD.
Actually, I should take that speech to my psychologist instead. Maybe he could decide what to do about me, if I’ve had a complete mental break or not.
I reach towards my side table for my phone, not thinking much of it, and my fingertips brush something feathersoft. I whip my head around to look at it, and oh God, it’s really fucking there.
With how fast I let go of the feather and jump out of bed, it might as well have been a snake that bit me. In the process, my feet get caught in the comforter, and I slip down to the floor with a futile, embarrassing attempt to catch myself.
“Honey?” My dad yells from downstairs. “You okay?”
“Yeah, all good!” I call back, positioning my feet to sit on the floor properly. After a few breaths to collect myself, I stand up, rubbing my temples. My stomach growls viciously, reminding me how long it’s been without food.
I take the stairs down with boundless energy, rounding the corner to the kitchen. My dad is sitting at the table, looking at me rather than his regular post-work TV binging.
“Look who’s finally up,” he says, one of his eyebrows raised. “I didn’t hear you come in last night.”
“I worked a double, so you were probably asleep when I got home. And, uh, I just slept for fourteen hours straight.”
Both of his eyebrows shoot up to his forehead. “Really? Did you take something for it, or?”
“No, I didn’t, actually.” I pull the feather out from behind my back and place it on the table. “Hey, what do you think about this?”
“Wow. That’s very pretty, honey. Where’d you get that?”
So he can see it, too.
“A… friend.” I turn around, hiding my growing panic inside the pantry.
“Well, maybe it’s a good luck charm if you’re sleeping well again.” He has no idea how close he is to the truth, watching as I pull out a box of cereal and a bowl. The mundane act of pouring the little flakes into porcelain feels oddly grounding. Shhh, they seem to say.
When I fetch the milk from the fridge, he says, “I was going to cook dinner soon, but I suppose it’s breakfast time for you.”
“That’s okay.” I finish pouring my milk, joining him at the table with my little bowl. “I’m all out of sorts, anyway.”
“You didn’t hit your head earlier, did you? It sounded like you fell out of bed.”
“Yeah—I mean, no, I didn’t hit my head. I’m fine. Better than fine, considering I slept like a baby.” I take a mouthful of cereal, staring intensely at the feather. The angel did say that I wouldn’t get nightmares anymore. “I don’t want to jinx it, but I might be cured.”
Aren’t angels known for working miracles? Does it still count if he’s the one who caused the problem in the first place?
“Well, I certainly hope so. But let’s not count your chickens before they hatch, yeah? Maybe you can get an appointment with your psychologist this week.”
I put my spoon down, staring at a blank point on the wall.
Who am I kidding? The angel is not real.
He can’t be! My subconscious must have manifested it all to resolve the root cause of my sleep issues.
I probably found the pretty feather on the ground, and it steered the course of these wild hallucinations.
Which means I definitely do need to see a psychologist at some point in time to process this mental break I’ve had, but I also need to continue with my whole life that I put on pause.
“Well, yes. But if the nightmares are gone for good…”
“What’s next?” My dad picks up my train of thought from where I trail off. Folding his fingers together, he looks at me with rapt curiosity.
It’s a good question. What is next? What risks do I want to take?
I’m dying to finish my degree and apply to med school, but I’m already too late for the current application cycle.
“I just have to complete my remaining courses within the next year, which I could do next spring’s semester.
It’s not too late for me to join the Peace Corps for the upcoming half-year. ”
He frowns, looking me over with concern. “I know, darling, but it’s already May. You need some time to recover.”
“Yeah.” Even though I’m dreading the grueling final classes I have to take, I might still be able to go back to school this fall. “I’ll think about it.”
On the off chance the world is truly ending, I wouldn’t be dying in peace if I hadn’t finished the stupid degree I’ve spent years working my ass off for—
My eyes catch the news playing in the background. I haven’t had the energy to follow it during my hazy struggle to survive. Suddenly, though, the reporter is all I can hear, as if I’ve stepped into an empty room with her.
“The 144k, a new religious movement, is spreading like wildfire throughout Israel. Protests to the movement from Jewish extremist groups continue to become more violent, escalating with the latest burning of a converted synagogue that left three dead and eighteen wounded.” Images of people digging through rubble pans across the screen.
“More frequently known as the ‘doomsday religion,’ many claim the movement is further destabilizing tensions in the Middle East—”
The woman continues, but my thoughts turn inward.
I’ve read the stupid apocalypse chapter of the Bible by now.
If I remember correctly, a group of 144,000 people is a very specific number mentioned in it.
My ceaseless nightmares, the recurring angel, the feather sitting on the table, and now this.
Could it all really be a coincidence? How is this happening?
“Crazy world we live in, huh?” My dad notices my distraction, interrupting my spiraling thoughts. “As if the whole climate crisis wasn’t bad enough, now we have religious extremists in the Middle East to worry about. Can’t wait to see how the politicians spin this up in the election.”
“Yeah, it, uh… It’s definitely overwhelming.” I stuff the last bite of cereal into my mouth and force myself to chew, feeling ill at the way the mush suddenly feels in my mouth. “Hey Dad?”
“Yeah, hun?”
“Do you believe the Bible?”
My dad looks at me like I’ve just grown an extra limb. His eyebrows knit together, his mustache scrunching in the way it always does when he’s concerned. “Why do you ask?”
“Just curious why you never went to church with Mom.” Or in the past seven years since her untimely death.
His eyes soften. It could be the mention of my dead mother, but he probably thinks I’m suddenly worried about his lack of faith in a higher power.
I suppose either is better, or less consequential, than having him worry if I hit my head too hard and knocked some screws loose.
“Well, honey, I suppose I’ve always been more spiritual than church-going—”
“But you think the Bible is pretty metaphorical, right? Like, there’s no way a talking snake convinced a woman to eat some fruit, and suddenly humans became intelligent.”
He chuckles. “You mean the story of Adam and Eve?”
“Yeah, those people. And what’s with all the crazy things in Revelation? An angel with a bunch of wings and eyes all over it?”
“Sounds more like a monster than an angel to me.”
“And why would they want you to eat their scroll of paper?” I stare off into space again. “What am I supposed to do with eating paper? Shouldn’t I read paper, not try to eat it?”
“Honey, is this coming from anywhere in particular?”
My eyes snap back to him, taking in his concerned expression. “I’m just disturbed by the whole doomsday-cult thing, that’s all.” Which is partially true. “I think I’ll go for a run to clear my head.”
“Kae—”
I’m already standing up, beelining out of the room. “Love you, bye!”
It takes me two minutes to change into some athletic wear and get outside.
Coincidentally, that’s about how long my ‘run’ lasts before turning into a brisk walk.
I figured that would happen. I love my strength training, but I do not run.
Ever. I know I should care more about cardio, but it’s never seemed like a priority to me when things like horses, bikes, and cars exist. It’s a sad excuse, but I’ll cling to it for the foreseeable future…
Which probably isn’t going to be much of a future at all, if my nightmares are any indication of what I can expect.
Still, I thought a little bit of fresh air and sunlight would help me.
It seems like something that normal people do when they’re troubled.
No matter how much I plead with the roar in my head to shut the fuck up already, it just won’t quiet.
Like a nauseating carnival ride, my thoughts twirl around and around.
Fresh air, my ass. I’m equally anxious, except now I’m anxious outside, where the sun is too bright.