#don't mind me just had to reupload one of the gifs was acting weird

[caedi]

love mechanics: episode six "I give you my body and soul."

[hearteyes-for-killmonger]

In My Mind x 01

*Reuploading because I've edited these to flow a little bit better. Thank you for your patience!

In war, there are no winners.

Only losers.

---

Images of dirt mixed with dark blood and mangled bodies flooded your mind.

The deafening sound of explosions and fear.

The chemical stench of human decay and gunfire.

The sweltering heat of the beating sun pounding on your skin, sticky from the sweat leaking from your pores.

All this death round you.

Three bodies..

Ten..

Twenty-five.. dead.

You knew not one of these muthafuckas and they didn’t know you, but you’d killed them all because you were told to. Why’d they have to die?

They were probably just like you, following orders. The world was fucked up. You felt.. numb. Then, pain.

Stabbing pain in your stomach over and over and over.

You bolt upright in your bed and when your eyes adjust to the darkness, your breath returns heavily. You touch your stomach and exhale. No pain. You’re still sweating bullets, but you’re safe in your bed.

What was that about? The dream is still vivid and fresh in your mind.

You look at the dark screen of your laptop. You’d been watching Brotherly Love with Keke Palmer, not some war picture...

The time on your phone reads 4:15 a.m. You are parched, so you get up to get some water. You want a couple more hours of sleep before you get up for work, and right now it feels like you've barely slept. That nightmare was straight stress. You settle back into bed and close your eyes.

After a few minutes laying on your side, you’re finally able to drift off again.

“Shoot him! You’re an object Stevens, a weapon! Useless outside of what WE tell you to do.”

There was a figure but the face was covered with a sack. Impossible to figure out who it was or if you knew them.

“Shoot him! Prove yourself! You’re with US or you’re one of THEM. Which is it, boy?”

The trigger slips and the body thuds to the floor, blood pooling. The sick, gnarled smile of a man you want to murder.

A jarring melody rings out and it doesn’t fit. You concentrate on the familiar tune and your eyes pop open. Light streams through your window and you come back to yourself. What the fuck is with these dreams?!

Mentally exhausted, you raise up and drag yourself out of bed. You’re angry. That damn dream pissed you off and it wasn’t even real.

—

“Niaaa! Ugh.. You look like shit,” Talia frowns and you cast her an evil eye that shuts her up. For all you know she has bags too, hers are just covered by concealer.

“Nightmares, Lia. I got zero sleep last night and I’m in a bad mood. Do not mess with me right now.” She smiles in sympathy before her attention is snatched to the door.

“Well, you might wanna turn that frown upside down. That’s your client.”

Instantly your face contorts into one that’s customer service worthy and you turn to see a black lady who looks to be in her mid-30s. Her hair looks thick, but you never really know until you put your hands in it.

“Hello, welcome. Have a seat in my chair and I’ll be with you in a minute. Just gotta get the hair ready. You said you already washed your hair right?”

“Yes, I washed it last night. No grease or anything like you said.”

You grabbed your sterilized comb, your moisturizer, and started sectioning hair from the Kanekalon pack. Three hours later you’re a little more than halfway through her head.

“You’re much faster than my last braider. I was there all day,” she says and you huff a quick laugh in acknowledgment. Of course it was fast, you didn’t take a break the whole time. She looked the type to get upset if you stopped for too long.

“I’m going to cookout, what y'all want,” Lia calls and Glenda who’s doing fingerwaves on a girl with blue hair yells her order. Lia had just finished a sew-in on her client and you still had half a head to go.

“Get me a peach milkshake with a cajun chicken sandwich, corndog, and fries,” you call back.

“You sound like a bottomless pit,” Lia quips and she’s gone. Fifteen minutes later, you have your food but you decide to wait to eat it. Your client doesn’t tell you to do otherwise. You just take sips of the thick-ass milkshake. Two hours later, you send the client away with a full head of Senegalese twists. You have another client in half an hour so you sit down and eat.

“You ain’t acting like yourself today. Are you okay,” Lia’s eyes analyze everything from your expression to your body language and you know you’re acting funny as well. You still see the images from your dream and they’re disturbing. The peach milkshake is helping you to stay grounded.

“Yeah, I’m good, just a little out of it. That dream still got me buggin.”

“What dream? Tell us about it. Maybe you’ll feel better.”

You hesitate given the nature of the dream, but decide to spare the gorey details.

“Okay.. So, I wasn’t myself in this dream. I don’t know who I was, it’s weird. I was on a battlefield at first in what looked like a war. I could see all these terrible things and smell it, that��s how vivid the dream was. I wanted to rip my nose from my face because I could taste the blood and the vomit and the- ugh," you wretch. "By the context it was like I’d killed all these people and they were just laying there stretched out in the dirt. Then I was getting stabbed in my stomach but it was like.. I was allowing it or doing it to myself. I woke up sweating.. and then when I went back to sleep, I was the same person, shooting some unknown person with a cloth bag on their head like in the movies only it felt real. I woke up soo angry. Then I just couldn’t shake it, I guess. I'm still angry..”

Glenda and her client exchange confused looks while Lia comes in for a hug.

“Someone pray,” she says.

A client waiting for Glenda stands and approaches. She has a bracelet with a church logo and she looks like she’s a spiritual person, something in her eyes and something warm in her face like you know her, though you don't. She says an eloquent and passionate prayer for your mind, your spirit, your emotions like she knows you, but there's no way. You feel tears well behind your eyes as this stranger intercedes on your behalf like a true prayer warrior, touching on all of your concerns.

“It’s warfare,” she says to you directly. “You have a mighty purpose and perhaps this is trying to tell you something about someone you’re meant to help. Keep your eyes open.”

You nod and thank her as your next appointment approaches. Feed-in braids into a ponytail. You had to wash and deep condition her. You sigh thinking about what the woman said. Could that be true?

Was there a reason you were seeing all of this?

—

In your car on the way home, your thoughts go back to the morning. You were a man. A man in the military and then in some odd private initiation. You killed, but you didn’t enjoy it. It felt like you HAD to because it was leading up to something, but what?

A horn beeping behind you startles you and you look up, green light. You hit the gas and make it home without another incident.

There were household chores to do, like folding the laundry you’d washed yesterday. It was sitting on the floor in a basket. You wanted to go online and check your social media. It was only 7:25 p.m., but a strong feeling was pulling you back to your bed. You followed it and crawled under your covers and within minutes, you were under.

"Got you, E!” “E, hurry up!”

Two little boys were out late playing with a basketball and you were running with them on the court. You were small and the apartments in front of you felt familiar, like home. Suddenly there was what looked like a UFO overhead and you froze on the court watching it fly away from your building. A feeling of dread set in and you ditched the game, running as fast as you could into the building, up to your home.

“Baba?” You called inside, looking around.

There was no one.. but then you looked down and your entire world was lifeless on the floor surrounded by his own blood. He had distinct claw marks dug into his chest through his clothes and he’d been discarded as though he weren’t royalty.

Royalty? ..I’m royalty.

That fact takes a backseat to the pain and you sink to the floor, clutching the lifeless body in your arms, rocking and willing it to come back to life. Willing to trade anything you have for a miracle. You didn’t have anyone else. No one.

The room changes and the blood is gone.

You’re pouring over a journal filled with strange symbols but somehow you’re interpreting them. It’s giving you a purpose that feels strong, urgent, IMPORTANT.

You have to do something, but What?

Who are you? How are you in my head? ..I’ll kill you. ..I’ll find you and then I’ll murder you.

Kill me, wait can you hear me?

Who the fuck are you?

I’m not sure why I’m here or why I can see what you see, but... I think I’m supposed to help you.

That doesn’t tell me who you are.

My name is Nia and I’m.. a hairdresser. I honestly don’t know how I keep getting here.

You’re in my dream.. or my nightmare. You’re probably part of my imagination.

And you’re part of mine, but I keep dreaming about you like this. How do we fix it?

If what you say is true, maybe you need to help me first. So, help me.

How?

Figure it out.

You open your eyes and you feel drunk. Heavy. Rolling your body out of bed, your heart is still heavy. You’re grieving the loss of a father that was never really yours to begin with. Your dad is in Atlanta. But when you were.. Erik, you think his name was, it had felt too real. His pain was your pain. His rage was your rage.

You freeze with your hand on the glass of water you just poured. You were able to speak to him this time. It was like he really existed and you were invading his mind, his nightmare. It was crazy. You were crazy.

You splash the cold water in your face instead of drinking it, shocking yourself. COLD! COLD! COLD!

I’m still here, Nia.

HO- Shit.. Erik? How are you in my head, I’m awake. At least I think I’m awake. This is weird. I think I’m losing it.

No, I wanna try something. Give me your address. I’m gonna remember it and come there. If this is real, we’ll find out.

If this is real, don’t kill me. Don’t forget, I know you.

If you check out as who and what you say you are, I won’t hav-

Your eyes open again and your apartment is pitch black.

You still have your clothes on and your hair isn’t tied. You sit up and try focusing.

“Erik? Are you here? ..Erik?”

There’s no response. You turn the lights on and take a shower. You needed it after all the emotional shit you just went through. You start to question again if you’re really losing your mind, maybe developing a split personality. Checking your phone, you have no missed calls or texts. You check your social media and get lost in that for the next half hour.

Dinner. You never ate dinner. You pull some leftovers from the fridge and heat it. Spaghetti and meatsauce and greenbeans on the side. After a few cups of water and last glance at your laundry, you glance back to your bed. What are the odds of you going to sleep and finding him again? You decide to find out. Climbing back into bed, you shut your eyes and wait for sleep to take you.

“Erik?”

You see darkness, that’s it. It’s silent and you call out again, but there’s no answer. Suddenly you’re in a throne room and you’re looking out from the throne as you’re burdened with the responsibility of what you must do. Your head hurts and your soul is heavy, but you know there’s no other path for you.

“Erik,” you call again and finally you feel yourself become aware of another presence as though you’re sharing the same body.

Wassup. Drop the addy.

It’s 3810 Circle Mill Terrace, Macon, Georgia. Apartment 503.

I’m going to wake up now.

You jolt awake and miraculously, it’s daytime. Time to work again, bright and early.

You stroll into the salon and Lia is already there eating an apple and drinking a juicebox, no doubt her son’s. Your client would arrive momentarily, assuming they were on time.

“What you got today,” Lia asks with a bite of the apple.

“I got.. two feed-ins, a crochet, a flat-twisted bun with added hair, and then three large French braids.”

She nods, “And how are you feeling today?”

You exhale and your client comes through the door, she’s about your age and her hair is fairly long. You can see already how you want to frame her face. You give her the smile and the greeting and lead her to the bowl to wash her hair.

“I’m okay. I guess that lady from yesterday was kinda right, maybe there’s a reason or purpose behind my dreams.”

“You’re still having them?” She sounds worried.

“Yeah.. they’re still in full effect, but I think I’m starting to figure some things out.”

“Okay, well, you just be open with us and let us know if you get any dangerous or scary thoughts, like to harm yourself or anyone else.”

You exhale a quick laugh, “It’s not even that type of party.”

“Yeah, okay,” she says and then she lets it go.

When Glenda comes in, you give her an edited version of what you gave Lia and it seems to be enough. The rest of your appointments go by fairly easily and when you leave work you stop to fill your tank before going home again.

This time, you decide to clean up and you DO. You fix your place up and put away your laundry. You even cook again. Baked chicken, kool-aid, and salad, nothing too taxing.

Throughout it all your eyes keep wandering toward the door, wondering.

What if.

—

It had been a week since you dreamed of Erik and his horrible nightmares based on a nightmarish life. You were glad the images had finally stopped, but if you were honest.. it wasn’t bad meeting him every night. You kind of missed him.

Not the scenes, just him.

Part of you, the realistic part, knew you were buggin and that you needed to come back to reality. Forget it all.

Another part, still watched the door. Wondering if you were just imagining everything.

You slide out of bed from your dreamless slumber and head to work. Another day, another string of clients, the first order being short kinky twists.

The short brown girl who walks in has a head full of wild hair and you groan internally. It takes you close to five hours to finish all of the little twists on that dense head of coarse hair. It’s well into the afternoon now and you sit down to eat your lunch brought back by Lia.

“What you got next,” she asks starting on a vixen sew-in. Her customer bought the good shit, that Malaysian.

“Uh, loc maintenance.”

“You retwisting?”

“Yeah gotta clean up the parts.”

She nods and continues chatting up her client. As you finish your lunch, the door opens and it’s a male. Quite possibly the finest black man you’ve seen in your life. Y'all don’t get too many male clients especially not the ones who look like him. His eyes go straight to you and you hold your breath as he approaches, but the awkward silence reminds you that you’re the one who's supposed to fill it. Out of the corner of your eye you see Lia laughing at you and you try to ignore her.

“Welcome, have a seat in my chair and I’ll be right with you. I just need to grab some things to get started."

He smiles and waits patiently and when you return, you put your hands through his cropped locs inspecting them. Something about him and them seems familiar, but you push it out of your mind to deal with the task at hand. He needs a wash. You beckon him to the bowl and start washing his hair.

He relaxes beneath your fingers, eyes closed as you work through his scalp and he asks how you’re doing. You give him the typical response.

You’re fine. Blessed and highly favored.

He smiles again and his teeth are so white and straight. The gold slugs on his canines only accentuate that fact.

"Good to hear,” he says. “What about the dreams, you still having those?”

Dreams.. You freeze in place but release his head staring down at him and he opens his eyes, looking into yours.

“You aren’t crazy,” he says. The air seems to die because for a moment you stall out.

“......Very funny you guys,” you call to your co-workers. Glenda ignores you completely and Lia looks confused.

You turn your attention back to the man at your bowl and he looks amused.

“What did you say your name was?”

“I didn’t,” his brow raises. You gulp. You’d told your co-workers the story, but no one knew the name of the man in your dream.

“Tell me..,” you whisper and he raises the bottom of his shirt revealing intricate patterns of keloids. You can feel them physically in your own stomach and it all comes rushing back to you as you gape down at him in awe.

“Oh, I’m definitely keeping you,” he grins.

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