“I-I’m sorry.” I stammer, my voice sounding small and far away. I know I can’t call for help. That even if I did, my Mommy wouldn’t come to my rescue.
His breath reeks of cigarettes and stale beer.
“Look at me, Melody.”
I do and find his features have come into focus assembling like blocks before my eyes.
“What you did was bad. And bad little girls need to be punished, you understand?”
I nod, my muscles stinging from his fists. His face takes on an evil quality as sweat drips down his brow and onto his nose. Punches erupt along my exposed skin and a fire of pain licks along my nerves with every new blow. I try to disassociate from the present moment but the agony stinging in my muscles refuses to let me go.
Bruises begin to bloom along my skin, stretching down my legs without stopping. I watch in horror as the dark purple splotches grow, swallowing me whole in their inky darkness. I’m drowning now. Swirling out of control in water and unable to breathe. Panic grips hold of my body as I thrash in the pitch-black water trying to kick my way to the surface. But no matter how hard I kick, my body is still being pulled down into the depths below. Oxygen. I need oxygen.
“Melody!” A deep voice startles me, and I feel strong fingers digging into my shoulders. My feet kick at the figure holding me down. They let go and I brace myself for the incoming assault. Only, it doesn’t come.
When I open my eyes, the land on a very concerned looking Chase who’s sitting on the edge of my bed, wearing nothing but his black briefs. His hand strokes my arm in a soothing motion.
“It’s okay. It’s just me,” he says. “You’re alright.”
I swallow hard, feeling my heartbeat starting to slow back to a normal rhythm.
“You were screaming.” His voice sounds soothing as he looks down at me with a frown etched into his forehead.
My eyelashes flutter, remembering the dream.
“It felt so real like it was actually happening to me,” I say, my voice coated with sleep. Sweat clings to my skin and the edges of my eyes feel damp with shed tears.
“Do you want to talk about it?”
“It— it’s hard to explain.”
He nods his head, not pressing me further but waiting for me. It’s oddly comforting, so I tell him. Maybe it’s because I’ve kept it bottled up inside of me for years. Maybe it’s because I don’t have the strength to avoid the topic anymore. Or maybe it’s because here in the dark I feel like I can voice what I’ve been through. Like the cover of darkness offers me a thin veil of security. Even if it’s with Chase whose very existence confuses me.
“I was in my old house, and I’d broken a lamp. It made my dad upset, so he came after me, just like he always used to do. I could feel his fists punching me and I couldn’t escape him,” I hear myself confessing. “Then I was being swallowed by my bruises, and they turned into an ocean. I was drowning and I couldn’t breathe. I couldn’t escape and all I wanted was to break through the surface, but no matter how hard I kicked my legs, I was still sinking.”
“Wow. That’s intense.” He says, hand still stroking my arm. I’m acutely aware of his almost naked form sitting so close. “You know you didn’t deserve that, right?”
“I guess.”
“Not really something to guess about. Your father should never make you feel unsafe.”
His words hit a vulnerable shriveled part of me that I’ve buried deep inside. The thing about trauma is that you can act like you’re fine, and then one look, one moment, one smell or stupid dream can bring it all rushing back.
“Yeah, well. I didn’t really have that experience. My house was never safe when I was growing up.”
“Is he still in your life?”
“No. He left us. One day he just didn’t come back and we were free, and my mom moved on. I always felt like he could pop up at any moment though. I spend more time than I care to admit searching crowds. Wondering if his face will appear and he’ll apologize. I’ve gone over it in my head a thousand times. All the thing I would say to him if that happened.”
“And what would you say?”
I take a deep breath in. “I’d tell him that I survived. That he’s a piece of shit for treating a little girl that way. And then I’d slap him across the face for all the pain he’s caused. All the relationships he screwed up for me. And then I’d send him a bill for past child support and therapy.”
He laughs and I feel instantly better.
“Well at least you have a plan.”
His hand moves from my arm up my neck and settles cradling my cheek. Everything inside me stills. All I can feel is the heat radiating from his body. The bed dips as he moves closer until he’s hovering directly over my face.
