Andy began to doubt his own sanity. If this was an illusion, why on earth could he still feel the ropes cutting into his wrists?
Ok now. Don’t panic! He tried to make sense of it all. It hurt to think, but he had to try and clear his mind. What could he remember before the pain? Using the process of elimination, he forced his eyes open. Looking around the place he realized that although there was red-hot lava, there was no heat actually burning him. He only could feel the sensation of heat, but not an actual burn. This must be a dream or some drug induced state of mind. How could he hear those creatures scream but could not distinguish the sound?
Get your act together! Andy concentrated on what was before. He knew he lived in South Africa, Hyde Park to be exact. Jan Smuts Avenue. This was good. He was getting his footing on actual facts. He was married to Heather and had two daughters, Sandra and Anna.
"All right!" He could feel his mind take back control. This must be a dream or some bad trip.
An icy sensation crept across his shoulders. He did not actually see the demons turn towards him, but felt their intense stare. Not real! Not real! His mind shouted. I am dreaming. Just make yourself wake up. Shake it off! The demons approached. Their movements were harsh but at the same time they seemed to fade from one position to another, stuttering closer to him as if they were in a film clip with missing frames. In desperation Andy tried to wake up… tried to move at least his legs with the hope that Heather would wake up, realize he was having a nightmare and wake him.
An image flashed through his mind. Him standing in a graveyard. His family and others were surrounding him. Heather’s parents, who never got over the fact that she had to marry him to conceal the shame of having a baby, stood in a trance, hands clasped, staring at the coffin. Heather’s mom looked up; her glare brimmed with hate. What the hell? What is going on? Where was Heather? Oh God, NO!!! Andy was at Heather’s funeral. He could not remember anything about her death.
Gradually the picture fitted like a puzzle. Snippets of information floated into his brain. Heather sprawled on the pavement, blood everywhere, and the wails of his daughter. What happened? His mind drifted back to the funeral. He looked down at the coffin. It looked so small covered in all those white lilies. Heather loved roses. Why were there no roses?