Judas
The only solace I find is in the black between sleep and waking. I don't remember then, my dreams are lost, I'm not yet quite awake. I feel something against my throat. In those confused moments I think the sheets have become tangled up against my neck in a nightmare. Nightmares aren't new. I move my hand to push the sheet down and find that the sheets at my waist, or twisted around my legs...I become more aware. My hand moves to my throat...I remember.
I remember the days and nights, long and sleepless, the texts and prophesies, the notes, the words. Connor, Angel, Lorne's face when he realized my plan, the look when I hit him. I remember Justine, how I believed her until she grabbed me. I remember the blade. I thought "I've done this before", I've cut a throat. I remember lying there, trying to breathe, unable to speak, my cell phone ringing incessantly. I remember blood running from my body and I was remembering then as well: remembering the gunshot wound. There is a difference between a blade and a bullet. One is betrayal and one is camaraderie.
When I'm fully awake I remember my actions but not my dreams. I don't remember if I dreamt of loas, fire, cold blades, and betrayal. Or if I dreamt of zombies, gunshot wounds, and camaraderie.
I am awake, aware, lying tangled in my cold existence.