Wanted For Pleasure: vol 2

Chapter 12: wine about it

"However, the fault is not in the wine, and often not in the woman. The fault is in the one who misuses the wine or the woman"

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𝑴𝒐𝒓𝒈𝒂𝒏

I gasp, waking up from my sleep.

"What's wrong?" Chris rasps in bed, sitting up to make sure I'm alright.

"Just a bad dream," I answer, feeling the sweat on my skin.

"It's okay, baby, lay down." He urges, pulling me down.

"Oh. No, go back to sleep, babe, I'm going to the bathroom."

"What time is it?" He asks, voice husky, fluffing his pillow.

I look at my phone and take it off the charger after hours of it being plugged in.

3:34am

"Almost four." I answer. Chris yawns and rolls over on his stomach to fall back asleep.

I go in the bathroom and splash cold water in my face.

It was only a nightmare, I remind myself in my head.

The second I cut the lights off, I feel something. Almost feels like someone, but that's crazy. . .

I flick the light switch back up and dart my eyes around the bathroom.

Nothing.

With a deep breath, I carry myself to the stairs.

First, I check on the puppies. Stevie and Duke are fast asleep, Stevie comfortably sprawled over Duke, they remind me of Chris and I in bed at night when we're not cuddling.

Seeing they're okay and there's not piss puddles and feces everywhere, I wind up in the kitchen and turn on every light.

As I open a cabinet to grab a glass, I can't help but feel watched. It's an eerie hunch but I can't shake it. There are quite a few windows.

I pour a glass of water and gulp it down, desperately needing something refreshing.

Only, two hours or so pass and I find myself still up cleaning the entire house.

I can't go to sleep. I don't want to.

5:45am

Chris is awake, showering, getting dressed, and pacing behind me as he rants about how much he hates his boss. Beck Jordan— if I remember correctly— doesn't seem horrible, only cocky and entitled.

I'm finished with the Swiffer WetJet and put it in the utility closet.

I know my body is tired but I can't let myself fall asleep again and risk another nightmare.

I tap my phone screen to wake it up and see that I'm still days away from my next appointment with Rita. We've brought it down to bi-weekly which is good, it means progress, but sometimes I feel like I need her everyday.