Part of what keeps me from giving in to Carter and the feelings that have been taking over my every waking moment is obvious.
The fear of the past returning. The truth in the terrors that devour my nights.
And the nightmares I remember of a past monster erase everything Iâve felt for Carter. There is nothing that will change that.
Sometimes itâs the feeling of Stephanâs hands on me that wake me up screaming. Itâs been so long since Iâve felt it. Or at least since Iâve been aware of it.
It used to be every single night. I couldnât sleep at all without seeing his face. Without feeling him rip me away from my mother as I begged her to stay with me. She was already gone though. Even as a child I knew she was dead.
Heâd killed her.
The sleeping pills the doctor gave me at my fatherâs request worked for a little while. Then I stopped and even though everyone else would say I was screaming, I didnât remember. I couldnât remember a single dream. Nothing but darkness as I slept.
Itâs come back to me though in the last few months. Even the pills canât dull the nightmares anymore. They donât stop them from lingering once my eyes have opened.
Itâs like Iâve gone back fourteen years, and my nights and days are both haunted by the memories.
âPlease, Stephan,â I begged him. I looked up into the eyes of the man dragging me away from her. My nails scratched and bent on the wooden floors as I kicked him, falling hard to the ground.
And he snarled, âYou little bitch.â
My heart races and the tears stream down my face. My fingers dig into the mattress and the sweat turns to ice along my skin. I donât know if Iâm asleep or awake, but I know whatâs coming. I canât move; I canât breathe.
I can see myself rocking, but Iâm still. Iâm aware of that. Itâs a different time, in a different place.
Iâm safe, I whisper and try to will the images away. Iâm safe.
But when I open my eyes and try hard to keep from crying any more tears, I remember where I am.
Itâs been years since the nightmares have tortured me like this. It makes sense that theyâd come back now. But without a place to hide, not in my sleep and not while Iâm awake, I donât know how much longer I can go on.
I canât live like this.
I canât and I wonât.
I want to call out for Carter of all things. He could hold me and take it away.
The bed beneath me groans as I roll over, and for the first time since Iâve been here, my back is to the door. Iâm conscious of it. As conscious of it as I am the feeling of Carterâs hand on my jaw. The strength, the power, the heat, and fire that lick their way up my body when he holds me like that.
Like Iâm his.
I remember his words, âI made a deal I shouldnât have. But I need to go through with it.â How he said I have to help him. Iâve spent weeks in this cell with no hope, until now. My imagination is wild with thoughts of what could come. But each and every one of them leads back to one scene. One that makes my thighs clench tighter.
Slowly, I lift my fingers to where his were and close my eyes as the tips of my fingers tickle my skin. The memory calms me and yet, it makes my heart beat faster.
Itâs his hands on me that I think of as I try to drift back to sleep. And I almost do.
But the realization of how much power he has over me with something so simple as a touch meant to control me, easing my pain steals any chance I have of falling back to sleep.