Dad’s eyes met mine, pleading. They begged for redemption, forgiveness, anything that wasn’t the spiteful, blame infused glare that my own offered back. My words frosted the air between us and in that moment everything was still.

“It’s your fault she’s gone.” I’d screamed hysterically, tears escaping their ducts like blood fleeing a fatal wound. Whether I believed what I’d said was the furthest thing from my mind. I was on autopilot, a mess of litter in a gutter being carried along by the rain to destination wherever.

In the screaming silence, you could almost hear my Dad’s mind fighting, clinging to his composure and sanity. The silence was broken by an explosion within his head. His mouth moved and his tongue formed indecipherable words as he lunged at me, his eyes crazy with misery. Frenzied hands took me by the shoulders and began shaking me mercilessly. Words showered me like an acid rain, burning away at my skin and uncovering the framework of who I really was. I screamed back at him and shoved his body away with the strength that can only be reserved for an instant like this. My shock-riddled mind felt as wild as my Dad looked. His eyes seething, drunk and enraged, he stumbled toward me with unbridled hatred tearing at the space separating us. In that moment I knew that he’d kill me if I didn’t stop him. Primal instincts took control of my left hand and sent it flying out to the knife stand. The weapon rose free from its home like a spirit leaving a corpse and floating upward to heaven. My father stopped for the shortest time, seemingly confused by the gesture. I felt completely out of myself, a paying customer watching violent images on screen. Though, when the blade plunged through his shirt and into his stomach, I returned. He staggered backwards dreadfully as the scene ahead of me began to register, filling my mind with even more emotions.

My eyes saw the knife that sat shivering in my hand.

They saw Dad, who had now fallen backward as a result of my actions.

They saw my entire world begin falling apart when he weakly whimpered my name.

“Owen…”

And then they saw nothing.

A hand touched my shoulder and brought me awake, the passionate dream still present, slowly fading out of perfect memory and only leaving vague details and a sense of sadness in my blood. Life shot past me at a rapid speed through the window of the train I had fallen asleep on. I turned wearily to see who had woken me.

“Hi,” she smiled stunningly and for a moment I thought that perhaps this was a dream. My body jumped within itself as I adjusted to the light surrounding me. My movement apparently spooked her as she imitated it, her hazel eyes widening slightly. “Sorry,” she said, “I didn’t mean to startle you,” and I began wondering what my face looked like as it continued getting used to consciousness. “It’s just that you were asleep.”

“Yeah..?” The word laboured on my tongue, stretching itself like a junkie’s food budget. I’m no good at talking to strangers.

“Yeah, and I just thought I’d ought to make sure that you didn’t miss your stop.” Her grin was subtle, though it beamed brighter shades of warmth than I deserved to be bathed in. My eyes took her in with the vigor of a wine connoisseur sniffing the aroma of an aged glass of red. She was breathtaking. Raven black hair felt out freely to her shoulders, covering up more of her face than I wished it would. Her lips were a rich pink, their various contortions all equally captivating. Her pale skin appeared as soft and calming as the white sand of some undiscovered beach paradise. And her eyes… wow.

“You do go to RMIT, right?” she broke what must have been an uncomfortable silence as her face seemed unsure of itself and I began to suspect that she regretted having woken me. I wanted desperately to impress her, or at least not leave her thinking I was an idiot, but my mind was so preoccupied with waking up and recovering from the dream that I had little resources left to be charming, or even amicable.

“Uh, yeah. How did you know?” My pointless words meandered, skimming the surface of anything tangible. Her smile shone over me again as she simply answered:

“I’ve seen you around.”

I felt as if some beautiful drug had been injected into my veins and allowed to spread gloriously throughout my body, consuming the residue of melancholy left by the nightmare and replacing it with an unworldly goodness. I finally reciprocated her smile.

The next station is Flinders Street, this train will terminate here.

“Anyway,” she resumed, “I’m running late for class, so I’ve got to run.” She rose gracefully from her seat and began toward the doors. As I went to do the same, she turned to me and flirted one last grin, pulling the doors open with her hands as she did so. My mind began forming a sentence, one last chance to make an impression, but by the time my mouth had started moving, she was halfway up the platform stairs, making a hasty exit from her brief cameo in my life. Regardless, I let the words reverberate.

“Thanks for waking me.”