I’m standing in front of the trailer I used to live in, but something isn’t right. The area surrounding my old home is nothing more than a dark void, the other trashy homes gone and replaced with empty space.
I turn to look around me, but there’s nothing besides the beat up Corolla parked in the drive. Even the path leading to the house fades out.
I’m trapped.
There’s nowhere else for me to go except…
I slowly look back at the single-wide, saliva filling my mouth as my stomach bottoms out. Those old nerves that were once dormant begin to fester, coming to life as all of the sound hollows around me. I don’t want to go inside, but I’m not in control.
My hand lifts, and I see it trembling as I grab the door handle.
Stop, Rose.
Don’t do it.
It turns, giving away as the door creaks open. Warm light bathes me, but there’s no comfort in it. It doesn’t matter that the power is on. Dad is still angry.
I step over the threshold, my limbs turning to lead as my head turns towards the kitchen. His face is blurry and nearly unrecognizable now. It always is, but there’s no mistake that the man standing in the kitchen with a pamphlet gripped tightly in one hand and a serrated knife in the other is my father.
I know what he looks like. I’ve seen him a few times over the years, but it doesn’t change the fact that in my nightmares, a realm that he haunts, he’s indistinguishable. Maybe it’s my subconscious trying to protect me from the face of my abuser, but it doesn’t help. It makes him seem untouchable, that even in this state, he still has an emblem of control over me.
“Rosalie…” He slurs, wavering where he stands.
My gut churns at hearing him call my name. I hate the way he says it—like I’m a nuisance rather than his daughter. Even in my dreams, the visceral reactions to him are present. I tense, my muscles locking up and my neck prickling with unease. I lift my hand to my elbow, picking at my skin. It’s a habit I’ve long abandoned in the real world, but one that doesn’t seem healed in this place.
He lifts the knife towards me, and my heart sinks. I lift my hands as if I can stop him, and I open my mouth to beg him not to hurt me, but nothing comes out. I can never speak in these dreams. I can never plead for him to spare my life.
“You look just like her…” His figure appears before me, towering over me. I’ve always been shorter than him, but I feel minuscule now. I can only curl into myself as I shake where I stand. I keep trying to scream for help, but nothing comes out. “But not for long.” He finishes ominously before I feel the first slice of the knife along the front of my throat. The pain is searing, but slightly muted by my slumbering. None of it’s real, but that doesn’t stop the burning sensation that causes my knees to buckle.
I drop to the floor before he wrenches me back by my hairharshly and climbs over me. I toss my head side to side, trying to claw my way out of his hold, but it’s no use. My blood, warm and trickling, slides down my chest as my father digs his fingers into the open wound and begins to pull at my skin.
“NOOO!” I finally scream, thrashing wildly as everything gets suctioned into a tunnel, and my head begins to spin. I’m jolted out of my dreamscape violently.
I gasp awake, sweat slicking my temples as someone looms over me. There’s distant shouting as I register the hands gripping my biceps tightly.
Dad.
“Get the fuck off me!” I shout, slamming the heel of my hand into the nose of whoever is hovering over my face. In the dark, I can’t make out Roman’s distinct features until he groans and shakes me.
“It’s me, Rosalie! Roman!” He grits against the pain, but I can’t think. Can’t breathe.
I backpedal away from him, my mind racing as my chest heaves. When my head smacks into the headboard roughly, I don’t even hiss at the throbbing ache. I’m so far gone that I can only sob as I hold my hands up and cower. “Please,” I beg in a broken whisper. “Don’t hurt me! I don’t look like her! I’m not her!”
“Rosalie,” Maddox says softly. “It’s us. Look at us.”
I cover my ears with my hands, shaking my head as everything melts together. There’s pressure on my chest, and I feel like I’m going to pass out if I don’t slow my breathing.
“Get her in the shower,” Kairo instructs. “It’ll shock her.”
“This had better fucking work,” Roman bites as he reaches for me.
“No!” I kick, thrashing harder than I could in any dream. This is life or death to me, and I choose life.
All three of them subdue me, and I take swipes at their faces as they drag me into the illuminated bathroom. I get a flash of Maddox’s concerned expression before the shower’s handle squeaks, and Roman picks me up bridal-style as hesteps under the stream with me held tightly to him. The cold water hits my skin, and I suck in a deep breath.
It shocks me back to reality sharply, and I fist Roman’s shirt in one hand as I peer up at him with pure fear. Part of my mind is still in that place—the only area my father can touch me. It causes Roman’s lips to part as he stares unblinking at me.
“Don’t let him hurt me,” I whisper raggedly, my voice cracking.
