Cool Cool Grass

3

Dust floated through the air in a thick curtain. I tried to avoid breathing the dust in, but there was no way. I coughed but could barely hear myself over the ringing in my ears. Coughing caused a sharp searing pain in my right side that for some reason I hadn't felt until that moment. I turned my head to look at my surroundings, but the motion caused an intense pounding that made me nauseous. I tried not to cry out in pain, but I was unaware if I did since I couldn't hear myself. I opened my eyes once more, realizing I was lying outside on the sandy ground. I slowly moved my left hand to my right side to investigate the gut wrenching pain I felt around the same area as my ribcage. My side was sticky and as I raised my hand to my face, it was covered in thick, red blood. My blood.

My body jerked violently, and I awoke to find myself in a room and bed that were not my own. It took a moment for my mind to clear and to realize where I was. I looked over at Tom who appeared to still be asleep, now on his stomach and facing toward me. I gingerly sat up, swung my short legs over the side of the bed and rested my head in my hands. I took some deep breaths, trying to calm my racing pulse. I hadn't had a nightmare in a while, and truth be told, this wasn't one of my worst ones. I couldn't count how many nights I'd awoken drenched in sweat, screaming into the dark, alone. No matter how hard I tried, no matter how much I wanted to banish these scenes from my memory, they were always there in my subconscious, lurking behind the shadows until I let my guard down. Just when I thought I may be free of them, they would come roaring back into my sweet slumber like some raging bull. Would I ever be free, truly free? Would these memories forever haunt me? While I didn't want to become immune to the horrible things I'd experienced and seen.....and done....I didn't want them to pop into my mind unbidden at inopportune times, either.

I stood up from the bed and tiptoed into Tom's kitchen, hoping to quietly make a cup of tea for myself without waking Sleeping Beauty. I was almost successful, or so I thought. When the kettle was nearly done heating up the water, Tom wandered into the kitchen to see me leaning back against his kitchen counter, rubbing the heels of my hands into my eyes.

"Darling, are you alright?" I looked up to find him towering over me wearing nothing but a pair of gray boxer briefs, concern shadowing his clear blue eyes. God truly blessed this man with beauty. Even with his short curls unruly from sleep he was still beautiful. Damn him.

"Yeah, I'm ok. Sorry if I woke you." I ran a hand through my own curly hair, realizing how frightful I must have looked. I pulled my hair to one side and turned away from Tom, ready to attempt to make a cuppa. The kettle shook in my trembling hands.

"It's almost 7am; time for me to get up and go for a run anyway. Bad dream?" Tom's right hand covered my hand holding the kettle, encouraging me to set the kettle back down onto the counter. I could feel the heat from his chest as he stood much too closely behind me. "Here, darling, let me." He removed my hand from the kettle before settling both of his large, warm hands onto my shoulders and slowly turning me around to face him. "Why don't you go sit at the breakfast table while I make a proper cup of tea and some toast for us, yeah?"

I looked up into his eyes, amazingly clear considering his state of drunkenness when he retired the night before. I stood for a while contemplating whether they were blue or green or gray or if they were the eyes, much like mine, whose color could morph depending upon mood, surroundings and color of the clothing one might wear. I'm not sure how long I stood there staring at him, admiring his eyes, his long lush eyelashes, the sharpness of his cheekbones, the little adorable cleft at the tip of his nose, the way his right eyebrow rose of its own accord as he considered the fact that I kept staring at him......