The Nightmare Game (34 page)

I felt certain that the answer to this was buried
within my forgotten memories. I would never be safe until I finally left this
realm which Rochere so completely controlled. The memories were coming back to
me, just not fast enough. I needed more time to think, more time to recall
everything that I needed to remember in order to survive.

But time was something I did not have, because
before I had a chance to think any further, a severe pain in my abdomen hit
from nowhere, spreading up into my stomach, cramping my insides, forcing me to
double over. My heart began to pound against my chest as if demanding to
escape. My skin began to pump out massive amounts of sweat. A sickness spread
throughout my entire body, causing me to convulse. Incredible nausea soon
followed and I knew I needed to get to the bathroom immediately. I stood up as
best as I could, but no sooner had I done so than my knees buckled beneath me
and I was forced instead to crawl. At the closed door, I reached up and pulled
the door handle, too desperate to care if the room was occupied or not,
although thankfully, I found it vacant. I scurried over to the commode, just
barely making it before the sickness overtook me completely and I vomited
violently. Instead of any real relief, I felt only a little less sick. I
flushed and sat on the edge of the bathtub during a lull that lasted only about
a minute or so, when I was hit by a desperate urge to use the toilet. Another wave
of some relief followed, so I walked weakly over to the sink, trembling, and
with shaking hands, splashed cold water on my face, drying off with a hand
towel. Clinging to the sink for support, I stared at my reflection in the
mirror. I was blanched, looking every bit as sick as I felt. So this was the
purge that Ben had warned me to expect, the one everyone agreed wasn’t going to
be that bad. Yeah, right. It felt like somebody was trying to rip out my
insides. If I would have known it was going to be this hideous, I’d probably
have chosen to forego the essence altogether. It was too late now, though, the
deed was done and I no longer had any choice but to deal with it. My stoic
acceptance had only a few seconds to mill about my brain before real regret set
in and another wave of nausea hit me. Covered in a clammy, icy sweat, my legs
became, once more, too weak to support me, I crawled over to the john to be
sick again; this time, though, the purge lasted much longer. In my misery, I
hoped the sound of so much flushing wouldn’t wake anyone in the next rooms
because I just wanted to be left alone. More than that, though, I prayed that
none of the three odd women would awaken tonight, because I was far too ill to
be able to deal with the likes of them.

Through the course of a night that seemed to drag
on without end, the sickness continued, short moments of blessed relief coming
in between. I had no concept how long this torment persisted, because I’d lost
all sense of time. All I knew was that it seemed to go on interminably, as
always it does when one is truly ill. I tried to console myself with the fact
that without the essence that had caused this purge, I would most certainly not
have gotten my memories back tonight; I told myself that such a purpose alone,
in and of itself, was worthy of this amount of suffering. After a while,
though, even that consolation did little good as, for what seemed like an
eternity, I purged in every way possible, convinced I was going to die, feeling
as if my very organs were liquefying and being expelled from my body. The
closest I’d ever come to being this sick before in my life was during a bout of
a particularly nasty stomach flu and even that paled vastly in comparison with
what I was going through now. Eventually, however, after what seemed like eons,
the purging began to fade, gradually becoming less and less severe, the blessed
periods in between growing longer and more restful. When the purge finally
ended completely, I sat still upon the bare floor, my back supported by the tub
wall, my body spent, my spirit drained in the aftermath of the violent
sickness, profoundly relieved that it was finally over for good.

In my exhaustion, it was some time before I
realized that I’d been resting in an awkward, contorted position up against the
old, footed bathtub, and now that the purge fever was ended, I was getting cold
from my icy seat on the ceramic floor. It was time for me to get up. Steeling
myself against the stiffness and the usual aches with which I’d become all too
familiar within the last few years, I was delighted to find that, despite the
chill, I arose with an uncharacteristic ease, remarkably free of the normal
groans and complaints that my body routinely made these days. I did not even
sport the twinge in my neck that I was expecting as a result of my awkward head
position against the lip of the tub. Other than still being quite tired, my
only real complaint was that I felt far too sticky and grubby to jump back into
bed without a thorough cleaning up first. My mouth was downright foul and the
sweat I’d pumped out had left an uncomfortable layer of stench upon my skin
that I itched to wash off. After putting down the bathmat that had been hanging
on the bathtub’s side, I plugged the tub drain with its chained stopper and
turned on the faucets to run a bath, only now bothering to lock both doors; I’d
simply felt too ghastly before to think about such a minor detail. While the
tub was filling, I grabbed the toothbrush and toothpaste that Ben had left for
me off of the white chest that stood by the sink and brushed my teeth, savoring
its sweet flavor; I then rinsed with the wonderful, fresh water, relishing the
clean taste it left in my mouth.

It was only then that the incredible dehydration
of the purge’s aftermath hit me full blast. I took the glass that had been
sitting alongside my toothbrush and filled it full of water from the tap,
drinking deeply. The purging had left behind an unimaginable thirst, for my
body was parched, dehydrated to a point beyond which I’d never experienced in
my life with the sole exception of the aftermath of the ghoul attack that had
forced me here. As I took in the water, I did not think it possible that any
living body could be this dehydrated and still able to stand. I refilled the
glass, sucking down the delicious, precious fluid as if it alone were the very
substance of life itself. I drank with an animal savagery; I was a hungry,
feral predator and the water was my prey. Without stopping or slowing down, I
took in glass after glass, feeling the water’s life-giving qualities pulse
through me, hydrating my dry, withered cells, causing an energy surge so
powerful that it made me shiver in a palpable, almost sexual way. When I looked
up, the bathroom mirror now threw back the reflection of a far heartier woman.
Was it my imagination, or did I look a little bit younger? How silly, I thought
to myself. I just looked a lot healthier because the purge was over, that was
all.

By now the large tub was full, so I walked over to
it, casting down the now-grubby robe I still wore from last afternoon, turned
off the faucets and stepped in, lowering myself down into the warm, relaxing
water and stretching out my legs as I lay back. While I lounged inside, I could
tell that the dehydration of my body had not yet been fully slaked, for I could
actually feel the pores of my body soaking up the liquid in which I was
immersed. I slid down and dunked my head beneath the water’s surface, coming up
for air when I needed and then dunking down again. I repeated this many times
until my shoulders, face, neck and scalp were as thoroughly hydrated and
saturated as the rest of my body. That accomplished, I reached over to the
white cabinet and grabbed the bottle of soap that Ben had put out for me and
began to wash with it. When it turned out to be the silkiest soap that I’d ever
used, I gladly shampooed with it as well, because my hair had gotten as grimy
as my skin. After having been so horribly sick, this bath had felt like a real
luxury; but still, as good as it was, it was time for me to get out before I
started to get pruny. I pulled the chain to release the drain plug, grabbed the
shower hose which was by the faucet and gave myself a final, thorough rinsing
with clean water, careful not to get any on the floor since there was no shower
curtain. I stepped out onto the soft, fluffy bath mat, dried off and wrapped a
fresh towel around my hair.

It was during this process that I noticed
something quite unusual. When first I’d taken off my robe to enter the tub, I
realized that I’d lost a quite a bit of weight since coming here. It was a nice
surprise, one that had been hidden by the looseness of my garment, but not
unexpected since I hadn’t eaten any solid food in days. I’d also felt a lot
lighter since the purge, as one usually does after being so sick, but I figured
that the poundage that I’d lost during that ordeal was only water weight since
I was so dehydrated; I’d probably gain it all back once I got enough liquid
into my system again. While feeling so much thinner was a very pleasant
surprise after such a horrible night, that loss was normal, not at all
sufficient to the point of being shocking. It was now, though. In drying off, I
noticed that I’d lost yet considerably more weight, an outrageous amount, in
fact. How could it be? I’d just been in the tub taking a bath; I was only in
there for maybe about thirty minutes. Estimating thirty pounds in thirty
minutes was a weight loss of a pound a minute. Not only was that impossible but
the changes didn’t end there, either. Everything about my body felt different.
Whatever had just happened to me went a lot further than just the lack of aches
and pains that I’d noticed when I’d gotten up off of the floor. I now felt more
lithe, physically more comfortable and more efficient. Impossible or not, I
felt much younger. I tried to explain it away by telling myself that this was
just my imagination working overtime; I felt so good now simply because I’d
been so terribly sick for hours on end before. Despite my denial, though, I couldn’t
wipe the smile off my face because I did feel fabulous, so much better than I
could ever remember having felt before in my entire life. The only thing
marring my fabulous buzz was the incredible thirst, leaving me to wonder just
how much water it would take to satisfy my dehydration. I supposed that I would
not be able to get much sleep in what was left of tonight, interrupted as it
was sure to be by of all of the bathroom trips which were bound to follow
drinking this much water. Even with that in mind, my thirst could not be
ignored. My body was crying out for it too loudly, so I picked up the glass,
which I’d left full just in case, downed it and went over to the sink for
another refill. When I reached over to turn on the cold water tap, I stopped abruptly,
forgetting for a moment my nagging thirst, absentmindedly placing the empty
glass back down upon the cabinet.

I caught sight of a reflection in the mirror that
was not my own. Rather, it hadn’t been my own for fifteen years or longer. My
face was thinner, less bloated. My skin was rosy and taut, the laugh lines and
the bags under my eyes almost completely gone. My first reaction was one of
shock. This was harder to fathom than even the weight loss and health benefits
that I’d noticed a few minutes earlier. What the hell was going on? People
didn’t just grow younger and thinner by taking a bath. Was this some kind of
magic, some kind of bewitchment? Of course, I realized, that was it. I must be
experiencing some of the highly touted benefits of the water and essence
combination. After all, Ben did mention that they had real healing powers and
Robert had used the words “refine” and “beautify” in conjunction with the
essence. When I’d teasingly used the phrase “magic water”, Ben had all but said
that I was on the right track. I just hadn’t put two and two together before
now because I had no way of knowing just how powerful these benefits would be
until I actually experienced them.

Satisfied with this explanation, I looked back at
the face that smiled at me from the mirror and touched my skin. I examined the
reflection with care, able to do so only because, for the first time in a very
long time, my near vision was perfectly clear without the use of reading
glasses. With joy, I welcomed back this woman who had slowly vanished from my
life over the years, who had become a virtual stranger that now made
appearances only from the confines of old photographs. I was so thrilled to see
her again that I could have spent hours studying her, delighting in her unexpected
return, but the angry thirst cried out once more, tearing me away from my
narcissistic obsession, leaving me no choice but to take my eyes off her for a
few moments during the pursuit of more water consumption, a task, however,
which I did not mind in the least, for this fluid had rewarded me so very
generously in so many different ways. After a few more glasses of the liquid
youth, even the bathroom itself seemed changed, sharp and in focus. My far
eyesight, which had been extremely weak since early grade school, was now
perfect. Even the Lasik surgery that I’d had a few years ago, which had
improved my vision dramatically, had fallen short of the ultimate goal of
perfection, leaving me still dependent upon glasses, if only just for driving.
With my eye function immaculate now, I glanced around the room for several more
minutes, delighting in the simple joy of being able to experience real life in
high definition.

Vanity soon tugged at me again, coaxing another
look back at the woman in the mirror who smiled at me with such great approval.
For the first time, I saw that I wasn’t just getting younger, I was getting
prettier. My slightly crooked left canine tooth was completely straight now.
Not only that, but my entire bite, which had been off my entire life, had begun
to correct itself. My excitement growing, yet still thirsty, I tossed back a
few more glasses of water, wondering at what stage these miracles might stop,
hoping they never would. I couldn’t wait to see what the rest of my body now
looked like straight-on. My thirst slaked to the point at which I could leave
the confines of the sink faucet for awhile, I walked over to the long mirror
that I’d noticed hanging on the back of the bathroom door when I’d locked it
before stepping into my bath. I took my time to savor the entirety of the new
me. Completely naked save for the towel around my hair, I stared into that
larger mirror, once again not believing my eyes, for not only I was thin, but
my body was far more firm than it had ever been, even in my real youth. I stood
in front of this full-length reflection, turning this way and that, striking
poses, admiring the view, allowing myself a conceit in which I had not indulged
for over a decade. These days, for more years than I cared to admit, the last
thing I wanted to do was to see myself naked. Whenever I actually did sneak a
peak, it led only to frustration, a disappointing reminder of the many years
I’d spent battling my weight with no lasting success whatsoever. Now though,
mostly within the short space of a bath, the fat that I’d been accumulating and
combating for so long had simply fallen off of my body with no effort
whatsoever on my part. This had to be the most incredible gift that I’d ever
been given, for not only was I thin now, I was fit and toned, in better shape
than I’d ever been in my life.