little bird // r.keene

i. a bad dream.

She sat in the chair by the window, it was open, a smooth, cool breeze flowing into her room. She had a book, a mug of tea and a blanket draped around her shoulders, knitted by Mrs James as a gift shortly before she died.

She couldn't sleep. She had hardly slept since the accident.

Miguel's accident.

But it wasn't an accident.

Her book was open to a random page, a story she had read a dozen times if not more, again and again. But despite this, she gazed out the window as she had done every night since, unable to blink. Unable to breath. Unable to sleep. Unable to think for herself, since every time she closed her eyes, she saw Miguel once more...

Falling.

It was two, maybe three in the morning. She had work tomorrow but she didn't care. She would work anyway, doing anything and everything to keep her mind from resting, to keep it from settling properly, like currents disturbing sand on the seabed.

Willing to do anything to keep her from falling asleep. She wrapped her icy fingers around her warm mug, smoothing them over and over the surface subconsciously.

A sudden groan emerged from behind, startling her. She turned her head without a second thought to the figure in the bed, knotted in blankets, tossing and turning in his sleep.

A strangled yell of protest ripped from his throat unwillingly. She set down her mug so abruptly on the stool beside her, some of the tea spilled over the edges, but she didn't care about that.

Gripping her blanket around her shoulders, she ushered to her bed, towards the sleeping boy, letting her book fall to the floor without a second thought. Her first thought being to get to him. She sat beside him, perching on the edge of the mattress, she was met with his back.

She reached out a gentle hand, caressing his shoulder, smoothing his hot skin under the sleeve of his tee-shirt. He jolted in his sleep.
"Stop..." He muttered roughly and quietly, "Stop.." He whispered.

She didn't need to read his mind to know what he was dreaming about- after all... She had seen it first hand.

"Robby." She muttered, gripped his arm now, shaking it slightly, "Wake up."

The boy jolted once more but this time upright, his hair was tousled, and his eyes were wide, and his breaths were rapid.
"Shhh, it's okay." She soothed softly, moving closer to him, reaching out with her other hand as well.

He was holding himself up on his palms, his chest heaving, but as soon as he saw her he felt his shoulders lose their tension and felt his anxiety dissolve. He sighed before hunching over and leaning forward to press his palms to his eyes, rubbing them clean of any sleep and any tears he didn't want her to see fall.

She sat against the back of the bed beside him to his right, her hand still placed firmly on his shoulder, reminding him she was there. That she wasn't going anywhere. That he wasn't dreaming anymore. That it was over.

But still, she couldn't say 'It was just a dream', because it wasn't.

She could hear his ragged breaths echoing from where she was sat beside him, she rubbed her thumb in circles tenderly. "It's okay", she whispered gently as he leaned back next to her. And without really comprehending his actions, the boy lowered himself slightly, settling himself back down and tucking himself into her side to rest his head on her lap. "I've got you." She told him, carefully intertwining one of her hands in his hair, the other remained motionless on his back, keeping him anchored towards her.

She felt him sigh.

"I'm sorry." She heard him utter into her clothes, she once more, let her fingers skim in circles on his head comfortingly.

Reminding him she was there.

When he felt her fingers gently on him, maybe once he would have flinched; he had never been touched with such tenderness since his childhood. He was no stranger to her touch, they had hugged countless times, but this time, her touch made him feel safe. And that was what he needed so desperately.

"I know." She said simply, "Just try and get some sleep. I'm not going anywhere." She felt him sigh into her once more, letting any sort of tension abandon his body completely. "You are safe here." And that was all he needed to her to say before closing his eyes. And suddenly, the monsters of his memory, of what he had done, fell silent as he rested his head on her lap and let himself sink into a welcomed sleep.

One she could not copy.