No amount of bracing mentally or physically is going to make a difference here. The whistle of the whip is a warning. Of pain. Always of pain.
Before the whip makes contact with my skin in my dream, I jolt awake and fall out of bed with my legs twisted up in the sheet while my heart pounds in my chest. I touch my back and my hips and then pull my hand back to see if my skin is covered in blood.
It was every other time Sylvester brought out his whip. He loved to inflict pain on me using it because he could make me scream without actually touching me.
He learned early on that I loved touch, that I craved it. Using it against me made him giddy.
I stand up slowly, my body protesting every movement. Because even though it was only a dream, it felt really fucking real. My muscles are aching and I’m tempted to look at my scars to make sure they are healed over. With every breath I take, theythrob, a reminder of the pain I’ve already endured and the pain I would face if he were to find me.
The thought makes me want to pack everything up and run even farther away from him. But it’s no way to live.
And I’m so tired of running and not living.
So, I take a step. Toward the kitchen instead of toward the bathroom where I want to curl up into a ball in the bathtub like I’m about to weather a tornado. I think I’d feel safe in the tornado.
Wading through the emotional turmoil and having my own mind try to help by making me dream about him, a mix of memories and fears, realities, and almosts. Every time I dream of him it leaves me feeling on edge and then I’m left wondering if it’s an omen. I can’t help but wonder if a dream means he’s right around the corner.
At this point, I don’t know what I would do if he showed up.
No, that’s not true. There’s only one real option—I get the fuck out of here and don’t look back.
My heart sinks at the thought because I really do love it here. I feel like I’ve found a place to belong. I’ve never felt this, not even in Phoenix. Of course, it’s possible I never felt like I found a home there because I didn’t.
The people who gave birth to me didn’t care to provide one with any real warmth. Why have a child if you’re going to treat them like an inconvenience? I’m never going to allow my children to feel that way.
Woah. I pause after finishing up my morning routine in the bathroom. Where did that come from?
I haven’t thought about the possibility of having kids for a long time. There was no way in hell I was going to bring a child into my relationship with Sylvester. No, I’m not cruel and I was barely hanging on. I can’t imagine how bad it would have been if there had been a baby.
I’m not even sure how he would have felt about it. Thankfully, he never tried to trap me with a child.
Not that it absolves him, far from it. But I’ll take the little victory. Hollow as it may be.
My hands are shaking as I start cleaning my apartment. It doesn’t really need it, but I need to do something with my hands where the actions are methodical and have a clear outcome.
Control.
By the time I’m done, I don’t feel quite as shaky and I force myself into the shower and I take my time while keeping the water as hot as it can get. It feels like I can’t get my skin clean. The heat of his breath on my neck is something I can still remember with stunning clarity. I wish it weren’t true, but lying to myself about the way it makes my skin crawl isn’t going to help anyone.
And now the dream reminded me, vividly, of the feeling of it.
Once I’m dressed, I practically bolt out the door, only glancing at the clock long enough to know Uncommon Grounds will be open. I need some coffee and to not be alone. I can already feel the claws of those memories reaching for me, trying to find purchase.
They want to pull me back there. It’s the last place I want to go. I can’t.
I force a smile on my face when I walk through the door of the coffee shop and find Gianna standing behind the counter while Graham is taking his turn at the espresso machine. The way they dance behind the counter while working is a functional ballet the likes of which I have never seen before.
At first, I didn’t understand that it is their love which allows them to move with each other, around when needed, but never through. When I realized what I was really watching, I couldn’t look away. There’s an awareness between them which would be far too easy to be jealous of. I’m glad they’ve found their person.
I’m not sure such a person exists for me.
If that’s what you want to tell yourself.
I shake off the thought because I am not thinking about a certain biker right now. Nope, not even a little bit.
Even if I firmly believe he would find a way to chase away my nightmares if given half a chance. He would probably even be successful vanquishing the dark patches of my memories and the man behind them.
But those are dangerous thoughts, ones I can’t allow myself to indulge in.