I close my eyes and the vision of the basement flashes before my eyes. It was quiet then, too. But at least I had the steady sounds of Jay behind me. My throat feels tight as I swallow and try to calm myself down.
I think of the city noise and focus on it. So many nights it’s kept me from this very nightmare. It’s not so loud that it keeps me up or disturbs my sleep. But it’s loud enough to keep me from going back there in my mind.
I grit my teeth and think of how he could hold me now. If he wanted to, he could be in here. I could sleep again.
The thought of falling into the depths of a dream with him makes my body move on its own. I throw back the heavy comforter and move from the bed with purposeful strides but hesitate at the door, my heart beating harder and my confidence waning by the second.
I swallow thickly, my heart beating slowly as fear creeps up and nearly stops me. But how many nights have I prayed to be close to him? How many nights have I wanted him to hold me? And he’s so close. I only have to ask.
My heart aches in my chest as I remember how he’d whisper it. If you need me, just ask.
I need him. God, do I need him.
The lump seems to stop in my throat mid-swallow as I grip the doorknob and open it slowly. It doesn’t escape me that there’s no lock. Just like the bathroom. None to force me to stay in the room, and none to keep Jay out.
The door’s silent, which is a blessing and a curse.
I don’t want Jay to think I’m leaving.
Or worse, the dog.
I peek my head out of the doorway, opening it up slowly to reveal more of the hall. The moonlight spills into the front of the hall from the window in the living room and floods it with light. So much more than what I have in the room Jay gave to me.
I only take one step, my bare foot making the floor groan with my weight before I hear a low growl.
“Toby,” I hear Jay’s voice say the dog’s name low and with an admonition in his voice just as the fear was about to take me. “Stay,” Jay orders from the living room. I turn my head to look back down the hall to the closed door to the basement. That’s where I was headed, but I follow the sound of Jay’s voice and walk slowly to the living room, gripping the molding that cases the doorway and facing both Jay and Toby.
Jay’s on his back in the middle of the floor. A thin blanket covers his lower body, and Toby lays close to Jay. He doesn’t turn to look at me. He absentmindedly pets the dog once and then twice while staring at the ceiling. If not from his hand stroking the dog, I’d think he was asleep with his eyes open, his body is so still.
The dog merely lifts his head once, assessing me and then laying his head back down as if he’s content with my presence.
“I wasn’t sneaking out,” I say quickly and the way I said it makes even me think that I was lying. My fingers twist around one another as I chance a step closer to Jay, just one, although my eyes stay on the dog.
“You should be sleeping, little bird,” Jay finally says and then turns his head to look at me.
“I wanted,” I start to say but get caught in his gaze. It’s intense and the way his eyes look at night with him being so tired, takes me back to when we were trapped. Back to when he couldn’t sleep at all.
“Will you lie down with me?” I manage to ask him, although I don’t know how.
“No,” he answers quickly and with finality. My heart feels splintered from his cold denial. I nod once, accepting it and trying not to think back to the bathroom. To the kiss. To the moment I thought we had. The moment I ruined.
It’s my fault. It’s all my fault.
“Leave the door open,” Jay says softly, ignoring how I’m barely holding on.
I nod my head again and bite my lip as I turn my back to him, to go back alone to the room. It’s only then that Jay says, “I can’t, Robin. John will be here soon.”
John. The way Jay talks about him makes my heart ache with a splintering pain that’s nearly debilitating. I have to wait a moment, forcing all of the emotions away. Taking a look at this from my clinical background.
“What’s the purpose of doing things this way?” I lick my lips after croaking out the words. I’m nervous to approach Jay; after all the years of training, I should be more confident. But it’s Jay. I’m afraid to touch him, or to hurt him, to make him angry. Not because of what he’d do to me, but because of what my words could do to him.
Words are powerful, so much more than we realize.
“What do you mean?” he asks me, still staring at the ceiling, but his relaxed body is now stiff and his response makes me shift uneasily. I decide to sit on the ground, still in the entrance. The thin nightgown rides up but I pull it down as the cold wood floor presses against my thighs.
“Your way,” I answer him and put my hands in my lap. It feels like a session in some ways, and the thought is comforting. “Why do you want to do it like this?” I ask him.
“John won’t listen to me,” Jay says. “He just shuts me down and he doesn’t hear it.”
