Note: description of torture
After Cassie headed off to bed, Simon sat for a while replaying the night's conversations. He'd been able to get a bit of insight into what Cassie liked in a man and what the no go areas were. She obviously had issues around how she viewed herself, she didn't have a lot of self confidence with how she looked, something he couldn't understand as he thought she was beautiful and loved her curves. He didn't need her to dress up, he loved how laid back she was wearing old clothes and pottering around the cabin.
He replayed his own conversation about his past experiences and how she'd been quite accepting of what he told her and didn't appear to hold any judgement. Then the sentence struck him hard. 'What was his type? Tall blondes'. 'Fuck', he said out loud rubbing his face, only now realising the implication.
She was the complete opposite, she wasn't anything like the women he used to be attracted to, which was partly why he was so surprised that meeting her had floored him. Simon groaned at his mistake. She was sharp minded, she would have picked up on what he said, immediately. Did this explain the change in her demeanour? Dammit, he'd fucked up without realising it.
Simon ended up having several glasses of bourbon. He felt like shit. He'd wanted to find out more about Cassie so that he could work out how to show her how much he cared about her, now he was worried he'd screwed up and may have ended up pushing her further away. Full of regret and having had too much bourbon, Simon fell into a very uneasy and restless sleep.
In his dreams he smelled the familiar stench of blood and decay, he was back in the Mexico dungeon. The sights and smells sucked him under, making him retch and feel like he was suffocating, his body helpless and too weak to withstand the onslaught. He felt the pain inflicted on his body, the desperation and shame of his captor's abuses, he was right back there.
He fought to escape, looking for any way out, desperate with tears in his eyes, crying out with no sound coming out. Then an instant his mouth filled with sand and dirt, his nostrils filled with the disgusting stench of rotting flesh, consuming him. He was in complete darkness, screaming into the black, scratching and clawing to escape.
Feeling wood splinter and pierce his skin, he pulled himself out of the dirt, gasping and retching, sitting up, opening his eyes and seeing the flames of the wood burner. Hyperventilating and nausea building, he ran for the bathroom to throw up, not noticing Cassie at the door, pushing her aside in his desperate rush.
Cassie had been jolted awake by shouting and screaming. Panicked and realising Simon was probably having a nightmare, she rushed out of the bedroom, only to be jostled aside by Simon rushing through the doorway and into the bathroom. Catching her breath, she could hear him vomiting and retching. Shit, she thought, it must have been a really bad one.
Cautiously she approached the bathroom, calling out to him. He was slumped onto the floor, hyperventilating and was covered in sweat, shivering and shaking. Cassie's heart broke, she wanted to reach out to him, let him know she was there and that he was safe. She slowly walked towards him and knelt down. He drew his knees up, gripping onto them with both hands, his knuckles white. He was shaking, sobbing and couldn't catch his breath.
Cassie called out to him softly. 'Simon, it's Cassie, you're okay, you're at the cabin, you're not there anymore, you're safe'. She tried, desperately hoping he could hear her.
He showed no sign of hearing her, he was gasping for breath and hitting his head on his knees. She didn't want him to hurt himself, she needed to get his attention. So she kept trying
'Simon, it's Cassie, I need you to listen to my voice, concentrate, hear my voice'. Trying this a few times, there was only a small change in him, so she decided to be firmer. 'Simon, it's Cassie, give me your hand' she ordered, repeating it again and again. The louder, 'Simon, it's Cassie, give me your hand'. Then again louder 'Simon, give me your hand'.
YOU ARE READING
Early Birds
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