Lost in July

XXXII

Collin
~
When I went to bed holding Margo
tightly against me, the last thing I was expecting was to wake up to her trying to break free.

"Stop!" She screams, her entire body lurching forward. I quickly release her, my brain foggy with sleep.

I sit up, feeling frantic as I look over at Margo. Her eyes are clenched shut as she murmurs unintelligibly. She's dreaming.

Her body jolts again as she shouts and I jump into action. I lean over her and gently whisper her name as I shake her shoulders. I try to sound calming but there's nothing calming about being woken from a nightmare.

"No!" She shouts again, this time she sits up, her eyes opening wide.

"You're okay, Margo. It's Collin," I say, rubbing my hand across her back slowly.

Margo looks around my room, her eyes wandering around, analyzing every last detail. When she assures herself she's not in her nightmare anymore, her eyes find mine.

She lets out a shaky breath, resting her head in the palm of her hand. "I'm sorry,"

"Shh, don't say that. Don't apologize," I move to sit behind her and slowly pull her body to mine. She rests her back against me with a sigh. "everything's okay."

Margo doesn't say anything, she just shakes her head. I figure she'll want to go back to sleep to avoid talking about it, but then I hear her sniffle.

"It's not," she whimpers. "nothing's okay."

I don't agree or disagree with her. I hold her and try to remain as soothing as possible. Once I hear her crying slow, I decide to ask her questions.

"Do you want to talk about your nightmare?" I break the silence.

"It wasn't just a nightmare," she says, sitting up and turning around to face me. She looks down at her hands as she anxiously fiddles with her fingers. "It was a memory."

"A memory of what?" I question, tucking her hair behind her ear.

She won't look at me and I know it's her way of defending herself from vulnerability. "I can't tell you. You'll hate me,"

I furrow my brows, shaking my head rapidly. "I could never hate you, Margo."

She looks at me with zero amusement, her eyes dull. "You can't say that if you don't know,"

"Then tell me," I say. "I promise you, whatever it is, I could never and will never hate you. The past is in the past."

She sighs loudly, putting her head in her hands, vigorously rubbing her face. She pulls at her hair and I remove her hands from her scalp. I hold her hands tightly in mine, trying to get her to focus on anything but her memories.

I plant kisses over every visible inch of her hands. "It's okay. We don't have to talk about it," I don't want to force her to talk about something that's clearly very traumatic. Lord knows I don't want to talk about my grandmother.

Maybe I should, though. Margo has shared so much with me about her past, and even her present. The little details over the phone and the small tidbits of information about her childhood, the good and the bad. I was never good at giving her the same. Maybe if I open up a little, it will make her feel a bit more safe.