She lays there still on her back, looking fucking dead but perfect. Her chest rising and falling is the only signal you get that she’s alive. My knees meet the foot of her bed as my hands slide up the inside of the blankets and my body is begging to feel her to touch her. Wrapping my hands around her feet her skin is warm, soft and just fucking insanely perfect. My eyes roam up her body to her hair fanned out over her pillows. Her bangs no longer shielding her face make my eyes fall to the massive angry red scar that runs over the middle of her forehead. Pulling my hands out of my jean pockets, I walk towards her. My fingers run over the angry scar when she stirs. I pull my hand back. As my fingers find the scar again, her mouth opens. “No, please don’t. Please, I will not leave. Please don’t,” she cries out, the pain in her voice cuts over my skin like a hot blade. Tears fall from the corners of her eyes as she thrashes in the bed. “No, no, no don’t. Please, it hurts. I did not do anything. No, please.” Stepping back from the bed as her hands fly to her face shielding her from whatever is attacking her within her dreams. “I’m so sorry, I’m so sorry,” she calls out, tears streaming hot and fast over her face she’s gone white reliving the pain inside her head. I know that feeling all too well. I do not wake her, I can’t. I am frozen watching this beautiful creature relive a battle that seems as painful as my past.
Her eyes snap open, her body stays dead still on her back while her breathing is insanely fast, then she screams in panic. My heart contracts inside my chest as my fists clench, begging to touch her… to wipe away all that pain and make the hurricane inside her eyes calm to a glass-like lake.
“Are you alright, babe?” My voice falls around us, shattering through her breathing. Her body stays dead still, her eyes stay on the roof. I wonder if she heard me.
“Little bird,” I say taking two steps closer. Her head moves to the left and her eyes lock on mine. Fear ripples like fire through her. “Don’t be scared,” I say while taking another step toward her. I see her hand move under the covers then she pulls a knife out.
My hands go up as she moves up the bed. “I will fucking stab you if you come any closer. I’m not weak anymore.” Her sweet voice is laced with hate. I’ve never herd sounds so vile coming from her lips.
“Whoa, little bird, it’s me, 81. I won’t hurt you.” She scurries up onto her knees, her eyes black, her stare empty. She lunges at me as I step forward and grab her wrist tight with force. Too much force as she yelps out then cowers. My hand flicks hers in an attempt to get her to drop the knife. Her mouth opens and she screams a loud, piercing scream. I twist my head away from her as I flick her small body up and into me, falling back onto the bed. I breathe into her ear, “Little bird, I ain’t going to hurt you, but you keep screaming like that and wielding a knife in my face, I may just have to knock ya ass out.” Her tears fall hot onto my skin as I hold her arms in mine up around her chest.
“Please, please don’t hurt me. Please, I’ve had enough. I can’t take much more.” Pulling us back into the middle of the bed my grip on her releases slightly as I take the knife from her fingers. I throw it across the room then lay on my side as she lays on her back. Her eyes dilate and her breathing stills to a small harsh, painful sound as I watch her talk herself down.
“The fuck was that all about?” I bite out to her, pulling my arm up so I’m leaning on my elbow. My eyes bore into her beautiful breath-taking features, even laced with fear she’s fucking stunning.
She moves her head slightly pulling her blanket up over her.
“Go away.”
“No.”
“Go.”
“No.”
She turns and I pull her back into me.
“Don’t touch me! Please, please don’t touch me.” Her voice is a whisper but I can feel every ounce of pain that rips from the words.
“Little Bird, what’s up? It’s 2pm and you’re still in bed. You just had one major, sleep-induced melt down.”
“You’re annoying. And it’s really none of your damn business why I am still in bed in my own home.”
“No, I’m not. And for the record it is my business.”
“Yes, you are and I’m not any concern of yours Mr. So back the hell up and outta my space.”
“No.”
“Wow!”
“Wow, what?”
“You.”
“Little bird, you lost me.”
“Clearly the biker doesn’t hold the cells necessary for this type of interaction.”
She laughs and it sends shock waves through me as it’s the sweetest sound ever. Fuck what she just said, her laugh makes me feel fucking alive.
“This is called a hangover with the outside layer of depression mixed with fear, laced with anxiety and running wild with voices inside my head that are louder than anything else,” she says, her hands moving up over her face, scrubbing down her skin then folding over her chest.
“Wow, little bird. That fucked up, aye? Me and you, we’re the same, ya know.”
“Um, no, biker, we ain’t. I am the furthest thing from you and the chicks that walk in your life.”
Scoffing at her I reply, “Keep telling yaself that, little bird.”
