A Rock and a Hard Place

After Dreaming

sooooooo...

I don't think I need to tell anyone times have been tough. I've struggled to motivate myself to finish this story. But, I've never not finished a story once I started posting it to this hell site, so I refuse to abandon this one. It just might take me a while to get around to it. If nothing else, I'm going to finish this story off of principle, even if I unpublish it all afterwards.

I'm sorry these chapters are feeling pretty sad. To be fair, this was apart of my original story outline, and I'm still following it. The next couple chapters should be a bit more upbeat, if only because they'll be more dramatic than sad.

I can't imagine that anyone is keeping up with this story anymore, but if you are... Thank you.

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I jolt awake. My body is trembling and my skin is slick with sweat. I might've yelped; it's hard to tell. Panting, my lungs burn as if I've held my breath for hours. I'm shaking. My heart races. And suddenly, uncontrollably, sobs begin to wrack through me.

Andy's up immediately. He's already pulled me into his arms and has started to ask me what's wrong. I can hardly hear him; the memory is still playing in my head like a movie, and he's in the back row.

The dream had been all too real, like I'd been sent to hell to relive it over and over again in punishment. Even in the darkness it's like his apparition is still there, standing in the doorway of a hotel room he'd never see, sneering at us huddled together in bed. I can almost smell the booze and bar peanuts, drawing me back to another time. It feels like another life. The Before.

"Veronica, talk to me," Andy pleads. "Are you okay? It was just a dream. You're safe here. I'm here."

And just like that, my father is gone. The room is empty, save for us. All I can smell is the stale, humid air and Andy's body wash as it lingers from the bathroom. The movie in my head flickers out and fades away like an old projector that lost its power.

"I'll be fine," I manage to breathe out.

He sighs in relief as I break the silence. "What happened, kitten? Was it a nightmare?"

I wish that's all it was. At least nightmares were usually fictional, just a series of random images and scenarios your brain conjures up that happen to be terrifying. What do you call it when your life was the nightmare and you just so happen to recall it in your sleep, detail by agonizing detail? How do you explain that the horror movie that plays in your head isn't just based on a true story, it's biographical? And how do you talk about that with your significant other, who will never truly know this feeling of despair, even if he can sympathize with you? Not that it's his fault. I can't bring myself to tell him everything from Before.

"Yeah, yeah. Just give me..." I pull away from him, climbing towards the end of the bed. I can feel him deflating, probably confused and unnerved, as I do. "I just need a minute," I say as I stand, my knees wobbling. I stumble to the bathroom, shutting the door behind me.

At the far end of the bathroom the light in the water closet is on, having been a nightlight of sorts, so I can see the sinks and shower in the dim glow. I try to catch my breath as I lean over, pressing my forehead to the cool countertop. My heart is still racing. I use the sink to splash some cold water on my face, trying to ground myself to reality again.

The movie is over. The vision of my father has sealed itself back into the safe I'd been keeping him in. The night we'd fled from him was nothing but a blur now, like the camera had never really been in focus. The sounds, however, still echo.