Where the Wounds Bloom

Chapter One: Breathe.

I woke up gasping for breath, the remnants of terror clinging to me like a suffocating shroud. My sister Kari, ever the vigilant guardian, burst into the room.

"Skye, hey! Relax, you're safe," Kari whispered soothingly, her comforting presence a lifeline in the disorienting aftermath of my tormenting dream. Safe. The word echoed in my mind, foreign and elusive. Safety was a distant concept, a mirage I yearned to grasp but could never quite reach. Symbolically, I believe that looking back at that nightmare of his hand around my neck meant that he still has a grip on me, even outside of the relationship. "Please, just make it stop!" I cried in my sisters arms. The nightmares persisted, a haunting reminder that the wounds my ex Jeremiah inflicted ran deeper than the surface. But Jeremiah was gone. It was me who had to get his hand from around my neck. Healing, I had learned, is not a linear journey. It's chaotic with progress and setbacks, a dance with the ghosts of a toxic past. Each night, I wrestled with what lingered in the recesses of my subconscious.

The mornings brought little respite. The residue of fear clung to me like a second skin, refusing to dissipate with the light of day. Despite the reassuring words of my family and the strides I made in the waking world, the nightmares persisted, taunting me with the echoes of past trauma.
The journey to reclaim my sense of safety was a marathon, not a sprint. Therapy became my compass, guiding me through the labyrinth of my fears. With each session, I unraveled the tangled threads of my psyche, confronting the demons that lurked in the corners of my mind.

Yet, to this day, the nightmares linger like unwelcome guests. They serve as a cruel reminder that healing is a journey with no fixed destination. I grapple with the residual fear, the phantom touch of Jeremiah's cruelty, but I refuse to let it define me. In the quiet moments of vulnerability, I find solace in the understanding that the scars I bear are not symbols of weakness but testaments to my strength. I may not be entirely free from the haunting specter of those nightmares, but I've learned to coexist with them.

With each passing day, I inch closer to reclaiming the safety that eluded me for so long. The road may be fraught with shadows, but in the company of my family, the unwavering support of those who love me, and the resilience I've cultivated within, I am determined to rewrite the narrative of fear and reclaim the peace that was stolen from me.