Trauma-ridden and adopted by matpat

PTSD

-that night-

I had fallen asleep surprisingly quickly, despite everything that happened that day. Granted, ever since I started restricting food, I had been exhausted from the moment I opened my eyes in the morning to the moment that I laid my head on my pillow at night. Once I closed my eyes., I was transported out of my bedroom and back into the classroom. Everything was as it was earlier, the dead quiet inside the room. The chaotic banging trying to enter the room. The rattling of the wooden door being shot down to splinters. The banging getting fiercer, louder. The screams. The door finally being broken down and the gunshots being headed towards me. I almost let out the scream that I was unable to when this was happening, but then I sprang back into the real world in a bed that was lightly damp with sweat.

Even though the nightmare had ended, the sounds of the gunshots continued to dance through my brain, refusing to exit. The screams had a soft echo in the background. I pounded my head with my fist, trying to get them out. None of it would leave. The sounds, the memories were etched into my memory. I left my  bed, turning my head every which way, courtesy of the paranoia. I flicked on the lamp that was sitting on my nightstand and curled into a ball of defeat on my bed. Floods of tears flowed down my face like river water. I could barely gasp for air, only breathing every few seconds. The lack of oxygen didn't help the panic attack that had only just begun. It became useless to even wipe away the tears, I let them soak into my sleeves when I wrapped my arms around my face. I couldn't even stifle the audible cries that I was letting out. I sat there in a wreck for god-knows-how-long until Mat walked into my room, I assumed that he noticed that my light was on from his room.

He came and sat down next to me on the bed. "Y/N, what's wrong?" "e-everything" I weakly stuttered. "I get it. Your whole world is changing and you are scared that nothing will be the way it used to be." "n-no it's not that. Well...it is- but that's not the only thing." I tried to catch my breath to little avail. "It's like I'm still THERE. I can still hear the gunshots. I can STILL HEAR THE GUNSHOTS!" He opened his arms out for a hug and I practically fell onto him. "You aren't there anymore. You are safe with me." He comforted. "Tell that place in my head where those imaginary screams and gunshots are coming from." The noises cranked up a few notches, seemingly just to mock me. I pressed my hands up to my ears. "It won't stop. WHY WON'T IT STOP!" I yelled. "Look, I know that right now it seems like it will never get better but I promise that isn't true. We are going to fix this." "That's what I've been told since the beginning. It was all a lie, it's only ever gotten worse." "I mean it. I've always meant it. I love you more than anything else in this life and it hurts to see you like this." "It isn't any better to be the person at hand." "I'm sure it isn't. But I am telling you this from the most authentic, genuine part of myself. If I could snap my fingers and have all of this off of you and onto me, I would do it without hesitation."

"Really? You would choose to hate yourself, cut yourself, starve yourself, and know that it was all your doing." "If it meant that you finally wouldn't, of course. What kind of father would I be if I didn't?" "Him." He took a moment to consider what he would say next. I could feel myself being overcome with drowsiness again and snuggled into his chest before falling back asleep. He noticed that I fell unconscious so he just adjusted so that he was laying on my bed with me on top of him in his arms. He reached to the lamp and turned it off. He laid his head on the pillow and ran his hands through my hair, kissing my head. "Sweet dreams, kiddo. Love you." He whispered before falling asleep.