Crescent

Chapter 6

Chapter 6

Derek swings his fist, hitting me square in the jaw so hard that I fall to the ground. I know moving will anger him, but I can't just lay here like a punching bag. I reach forward and feel the table ahead of me. With quick movements, I pull myself under the table. The hiding place is not innovative, and certainly won't last long, but it covers me long enough to realize my eye is already swollen shut and my lip, busted.

Suddenly, the table is violently flipped, revealing the seething face of my tormenter. He yells something, spit flying from his mouth. In one smooth motion, his foot is off the floor and swinging in my direction before I know it. I try to scream, but nothing comes out of my mouth. I know his kick has broken at least a few of my ribs. The pain is unbearable, yet there is more to come.

He grabs my arm and twists it behind my back roughly. I know his fingers digging into my flesh will definitely leave bruises. He jerks, and my shoulder pops out of the socket.

Once again, I let out a silent scream.

I try to plead with him, but my words won't form. Tears run down my cheeks and I know this is it. No one is here to help me, and no one is coming. My body sags, going limp with the realization that I have no control over what is happening. Anything is better than this.

Anything.

My body, giving up all control, flops like a rag doll as Derek hits, kicks, grabs, twists, breaks, and shatters it.

Only once it feels like every bone has been broken and every joint out of socket, does my scream pierce through the air. It's a scream like no other I have ever heard, filled with the pain of a thousand beatings and sorrow for the loss of my life. After, in the silence that follows, the only sound heard throughout the empty house is my sobbing, echoing off every wall.

"You're okay. You're okay," A voice soothes.

I feel arms wrapped around me, Derek's, pulling me close until I'm pressed against him. "No, no, no! Don't touch me! Please!"

"It's me. It's Tom. Sh, sh. You're okay. It was just a nightmare." A hand soothes my hair. Tom. I recognize his voice and, once my eyes confirm it is him, relax into his hold. My body is still hot, practically burning, every bone and muscle aches. "You're okay," Tom repeats.

"It was so bad," I sob into his shoulder. "And it seemed so real. My whole body hurts."

"It's okay."

My tears are soaked away by his shirts and soon my sobs turn into sniffles. He continues to brush a hand through my hair, slowly settling us back down into a lying position. Carefully, Tom unwraps one of my hands from his shirt, stretching out the curled fingers. My hand makes sickening cracks as it opens, pain shooting up my arm. "It's okay." He rubs across the bones of my hand, almost like a massage you get during a manicure, until the cracking stops and my hand can flex like normal.

I cry out as he repeats the same motions with my other hand.

When that one seems normal again as well, Tom clasps a hand around both of mine, his other arm going around my back to hold my body near him. I fall back asleep, my face cooling against his tear-soaked shirt.

My nightmares continue throughout the night, and at some point I start to lose track of what is reality or not. Each dream ends with me injured - some by Derek, others from a car or motorcycle accident, and one even from jumping off of my balcony, which had taken a new, nightmare-induced height. Tom would repeat his part throughout the night, and the pain made it hard to tell if he was straightening my broken bones and popped sockets, or hurting them more.