They didn't come often, but for some reason, they decided to show up on the first goddamn night I spent with anyone else. The one night I got to be close to Henny.
I was at the point in the dream that was the worst. The one where I'd been made to witness deviant acts towards a young girl. A young girl I had claimed as a friend only days before because she had been bullied and I stepped in to help.
If I hadn't spoken to her, she wouldn't have been in that position. She wouldn't have been taken from her family and fucking tortured in the most heinous of ways.
Not only was I hurting for her, but I was mad at myself for even attempting to have something nice. I couldn't have anything in this world. Not until I could control things.
The young me watched as the girl was hurt over and over. I knew I would wake up. I knew it was a dream… a memory… a nightmare.
But that didn't stop my body's reaction. The overwhelming panic and dread. Only this time, instead of waking in a panic, sweating and panting, reaching for my gun, I woke to soft murmurs and gentle hands on my cheeks.
That's it.
You're fine.
You're safe.
It's time to wake up Pip.
Henny's voice soothed the last of the terror running through my bloodstream. I blinked my eyes open to see him hovering over me, concern etched in his features.
“Henny,” I croaked.
His lips tipped up in what could pass for a smile if you really looked closely.
“You were having a nightmare. I had to wake you up. I couldn't listen to you suffer anymore.”
“I'm sorry,” I told him as I remained still. I knew if I moved, he would drop his hands away. He'd clearly forgotten that they were there or he would have done so already.
Henny wasn't touchy feely, though he wasn't as bad as Dario, Pharrell's CFO and cousin. That man hated touch with a passion.
But Henny… he just wasn't affectionate.
Never had been.
This was new, and I wanted to soak in it for as long as possible.
“Do you want to talk about it?” he asked me, his thumb gently stroking over my cheek.
“No. It's not worth either of our time to discuss old memories.”
His brow dipped as his lips turned down. “Bad memories.”
The words weren’t a question. He already knew.
I nodded anyway. “And sometimes the nightmares come back. I'm usually better about controlling them. I'm sorry I woke you.”
He shook his head. “No, it's fine. I just,” he paused. I wondered what he was struggling to say. What words was he holding back?
Usually, Henri was snarky with me. He could hold his own in a battle of who could be the most sarcastic really damn well.
I loved poking the bear when I got the chance. But he wasn't going to do that now. Either it was because he thought I was fragile or he wasn't awake enough himself. I couldn’t think of any other reason.
I would go so far as to say I missed our banter, but this was better.
Having his touch, seeing his careful evaluation of me, knowing that I was important enough for him to get out of bed and check on when others would have just put in earplugs or close the door between us.
“I promise I'm fine. Whatever it is you wanted to say isn't important.”
