Intramural

Nobody can hear a scream in the vacuum of space, or so they say. Alice awoke from darkness, her throat throbbing, voice barely audible. "Hello?" she said, then louder, straining her vocal chords with every fiber of her being. She clutched her throat, feeling its tightness and aware of its lack of authority. Standing up off the wet ground, she carefully evaluated her surroundings, acutely aware of her sudden vulnerability. She certainly couldn't scream.

A dense fog obscured her vision and her legs felt like lead yet weak, as though she had been running for hours. She pressed on her temples, aware that her head was throbbing and, with eyes closed tried to recall exactly what had happened and where she could possibly be. There was a bridge ahead and she continued on the path towards it while fumbling for her cell phone. She needed to call Aaron. They were supposed to meet up and now that rendezvous seemed next to impossible. Where was she?

She continued on the footpath under the overpass, the transient darkness morphed into a hazy green light. It was quiet. Too quiet. She strained to hear or sense any signs of civilization. The park-like setting was frighteningly undisturbed. Pristine benches, the manicured lawn with no evidence of foot traffic, children playing or picnics. She felt disoriented.

She looked at her phone to determine the time. The screen flashed and scrambled. Shit, she thought, don't glitch on me now. She took a few deep breaths waiting for the screen to right itself. When it did, she became engulfed in deeper confusion. The time simply read in dashes. No date. Frantically accessing her contacts, she looked for Aaron's number. It was bad enough that she had been evasive the past few months, using work and appointments as an excuse to avoid the unavoidable conversations she needed to have. Now she would look like a flake. There were only four contacts in her phone, none of which she recognized. Aaron's was gone. She became aware of her breath, shallow yet heavy in her chest. Do not panic, she ordered herself. There is a perfectly reasonable explanation.

She refocused on orienting herself. The humid air felt suffocating. She was nearing what appeared to be a main road, though no pedestrians or vehicles were evident. The fog eddied around her, dizzying. She summoned the intrepid adventurer she knew she was, and pressed forward.

***

The high pitched, incessant whine of an alarm clock sounded, annoyingly loud and definitely much too early. Alice flung her arm over to the snooze button, debating if she could squeeze in another five minutes. She would have to scramble; she hadn't prepped all of her materials she needed for the day's meetings. That ended the internal debate with urgency. She sat up rubbing her eyes.

"Hello sleepy head," he approached her slowly, carefully keeping a mug of hot coffee upright, conscious not to spill.

"You really don't have to do that anymore..." she said. She instantly became shamefully aware of the apparent ungratefulness in her voice and corrected course. "Thank you."

Aaron always had been an early riser. She used to be able to tell the time of morning based on noises he made throughout the house. The shower running- 6 a.m. A spoon clinking on the porcelain bowl as he ate his cereal while reading the latest political news - 6:15 a.m. The shuffle as he pulled a freshly ironed shirt from the closet and pulled it over his undershirt, selecting a tie, pulling on his trousers - 6:40 a.m. Lately, however, she found herself in deeper sleeps, barely able to rouse. With Aaron sleeping in the other room, the sounds became less obvious and bothersome. But she couldn't live like this forever.

"I'm going to be late," Alice said pulling herself out of bed and sifting through her closet. She had an important meeting and did not want to look discheveled. She had not done herself any favors by socializing with her girlfriends until 11 p.m., but she had convinced herself that she needed it - had earned it, even.

"Will you be home for dinner?" he asked politely.

Stop trying so hard! She thought to herself, irritated that he continued his desperate attempts despite evidence that their marriage was quickly dissolving. She pretended to be distracted as she pulled on a shift dress and fumbled for a matching pair of heels. He cleared his throat in an attempt to make her present.

"I don't know, honestly. You know how my days have been." She avoided eye contact and packed her work bag: laptop, handouts, presentation, flash drive.... she took several hurried sips of coffee and ran into the bathroom to wash her face and apply concealer and lip gloss. It was a vain attempt to cover the lack of sleep and stress, and to look polished. She brushed past Aaron and hurried out of the house.

She wanted chaos. At the time they married, she thought Aaron could fix her, settle her into the comfort of a structured home. Tame her. It hadn't worked. Deep inside, she wanted to scream. She wanted to lash out. Her adrenaline propelled her footsteps towards the office. She felt her feet pound the pavement with determination, and burn in resistance to the force. The blood rushed from her head and she felt tears streaking down her face. Barely able to see through her tears, she felt her body pulled forward faster, turblent, propelled by an outside force until she was no longer in control of her feet. Everything around her spun and she surrendered to the force, her hair twirling around her face, further obscuring her vision, and then everything disappeared.

***

Fragments of where she had been were coming back to her. She recognized the upcoming road that was leading out of the park area. It was familiar, yet different. She felt something brush past her and she whirled around. No one was there, yet she was certain she was not alone.

"Hello?" She strained again to say, yet barely any sound came out. The sidewalk transitioned from the peaceful parklike setting into a conglomerate of buildings that stretched in front of her, obscuring the horizon and gradually reaching towards the sky. The familiarity of the setting was distorted by the noticeable absence of foot traffic, vehicles, and the sights and sounds that used to bring comfort. Yet, she suddenly knew that this was, in fact, her neighborhood.