TWENTY-THREE
KITTY
NINE DAYS LATER
Playlist recommendation:
Snooze - SZA
Associating safety with the man who’d put me in danger in the first place aggravated the hell out of me.
Talk about a riot.
Bodily autonomy got thrown out the window, alongside common sense and critical thinking skills, as I had no sway in the matter.
Sleeping without him was the biggest no-no.
Hence…
I let loose a scream, my body jerking into wakefulness at the same time, and I instinctively knew that he’d left the bed at some point.
It was why I screamed.
Of course, he came running a few seconds later, almost flying across the bed like goddamn Superman, and he immediatelydrew me into his embrace. And I didn’t complain. His touch was poison, but also the only antidote.
So, I tucked myself tighter into him. Getting into his skin wouldn’t be enough.
“It’s okay, Kitty. You’re safe!”
The shadows, the blood, the fear—the bad dream swept around me, churning me in its turbulent waters, until I felt as if I were drowning.
Until drowning seemed as if it’d provide the ultimate relief.
His words finally pierced the rushing in my ears. “I’m not safe!” I hissed at him around tears. “And it’s your fault!”
He tensed as he always did when I snapped at him after a nightmare, but he took it. Sat in my accusation. Absorbed it.
His lips brushed over my forehead. “I know.”
“How are you the reason I’m in danger but you’re the only one that makes me feel safe?” I sobbed.
The only thing that ever calmed me down was when he held me.
The only thing that staved off the nightmares was when we shared a mattress.
My frailty humiliated me.
It was also impractical because Stan, I’d come to learn, had insomnia. Worse than that, he slept in chunks. But my subconscious didn’t give a shit. It wanted him glued to me for eight solid hours a night.
I hated it even as I was grateful that he accommodated this hopefully temporary quirk.
“I’m sorry,duci. If I could…”
“Lucas never puts me in danger. Cade hasn’t. My dad didn’t. Whyyou? How are you doing this to me?”
“I don’t know.” Misery and guilt laced the words. “But I will always be here when you wake. I will always catch you when you fall. I swear.”
My hands fisted in the tee he’d worn to bed. I resented the cotton that separated us almost as fiercely as I resented him. My fingers burrowed underneath the hem until they touched bare flesh, and only then did I accuse, “You can’t swear that.”
