UNBROKEN PROMISE

~7~ Nightmares

Oma's POV

The night had settled into a heavy silence, broken only by the occasional creak of the old wooden beams above me. The room Logan had shown me was simple, almost bare, but it was mine for now, and that was something. I had done my best to clean it, making the bed with fresh sheets, but the emptiness of the space echoed the hollowness inside me.

I lay in bed, staring up at the ceiling, unable to shake the unfamiliarity of my new life. My heart felt heavy with everything that had happened. Marrying Logan, moving to a place I barely knew-it all felt surreal, like a dream I hadn't woken up from yet. The events of the day swirled in my mind, but exhaustion eventually took over, and my eyelids grew heavier with each passing moment.

But sleep wasn't kind.

In the dream, I was running. The ground beneath me was uneven, stones and dirt flying up with each desperate step I took. I didn't know where I was at first-everything around me was a blur of grays and browns, a haze that seemed to stretch on forever. But then I saw him. My father.

"Papa!" I screamed, my voice raw with desperation. He was just ahead of me, his broad back unmistakable as he walked slowly, steadily, away from me. I pushed my legs harder, forcing them to run faster, but no matter how fast I moved, he seemed to drift farther away.

"Papa, wait!" I cried, my throat tightening with fear. The distance between us grew, and no matter how much I ran, he remained just out of reach. Panic clawed at my chest, and my feet felt like lead, every step harder than the last.

Suddenly, the scene shifted. I wasn't in some endless field anymore-I was back in my town. The familiar streets surrounded me, the houses lined with people. But something was wrong. Their faces were twisted with anger, with disgust.

"There she is!" a voice shouted, and I turned to see a woman I had known all my life pointing at me. "The abomination!"

The crowd grew, their voices rising in a cacophony of hate and scorn. "She's cursed! A disgrace!"

I tried to speak, to defend myself, but the words stuck in my throat. I felt like I was drowning in their shouts, their accusations. They were everywhere, closing in on me from every side, their hands reaching out as if to tear me apart.

"No! No!" I screamed, backing away, but there was nowhere to go. The closer they came, the smaller the space around me became. The air grew thick, suffocating. My chest heaved as I gasped for breath, but the noise-oh, the noise-it was unbearable, deafening, until all I could do was collapse to the ground, covering my ears, begging for it to stop.

And then, there was silence.

I shot up in bed, my body slick with sweat, my heart pounding so hard it felt like it might burst from my chest. For a moment, I didn't know where I was my room spun around me, the shadows from the window casting eerie shapes across the walls. My breath came in short, ragged gasps as I clutched the blanket, trying to calm myself.

It was just a dream. Just a dream.

I closed my eyes, trying to steady my racing heart, but the images wouldn't leave me. My father, slipping away from me. The voices. The hateful words. They lingered, pressing against my mind, making it hard to breathe. Tears pricked at my eyes before I could stop them, and before I knew it, I was sobbing.

"Papa," I whispered into the darkness, my voice shaking. "Why did you leave me? Why did you have to go?" My chest ached with the weight of grief that I hadn't let myself feel for so long. It was as if losing him had torn something vital from me, leaving me lost in this world without a compass, without a guide.

"What am I supposed to do now?" I cried softly, hugging my knees to my chest. The room was too quiet, too empty. The sound of my own sobs felt like they echoed off the walls, mocking the loneliness that had taken root deep inside me. "I don't know what to do."

I buried my face in my hands, letting the tears flow freely. It hadn't been too long since I had let myself cry like this, too long since I had allowed myself to feel the pain of his absence. Everything was changing so fast, and I didn't know how to hold on.

For what felt like hours, I cried. I cried for my father, for the life I had lost, for the strange new world I found myself in with a man I barely knew. But eventually, the tears slowed, leaving me feeling hollow, emptied.

Wiping my face with the sleeve of my nightgown, I reached under my pillow, searching for something familiar, something that had always brought me comfort. My fingers brushed the smooth, familiar beads of my rosary, and I clutched it tightly in my hand.

I closed my eyes, the coolness of the beads grounding me as I began to murmur the familiar prayers. The words came naturally, flowing from my lips like a balm to my soul. Each prayer, each bead, helped me focus, pulling me away from the fear and the sadness that had overwhelmed me.

"Hail Mary, full of grace..."

With each repetition, I felt a sense of peace begin to settle over me. The tightness in my chest loosened, and the panic that had gripped me earlier slowly melted away. It was as if the prayers wrapped around me like a warm blanket, shielding me from the darkness of my thoughts. I imagined my father watching over me, his hand on my shoulder, reminding me that I wasn't alone.

"Holy Mary, Mother of God, pray for us sinners..."

The rhythm of the rosary, the weight of the beads in my hand, brought me back to a place of calm. I breathed deeply, the air no longer feeling so stifling, my heart no longer racing. I held onto the rosary, letting its familiar presence anchor me, and soon the tears had dried on my cheeks.

By the time I finished, a sense of peace had washed over me, the kind that only prayer could bring. I held the rosary close to my chest, whispering one final plea to God, asking for strength, for guidance.

The exhaustion of the day caught up with me again, but this time, it wasn't the same restless, uneasy sleep that had claimed me earlier. I felt the heaviness in my limbs as I sank back into the bed, my fingers still wrapped around the beads.

As my eyes fluttered closed, I could still hear the soft echo of my prayers in my mind, like a lullaby pulling me into the comfort of sleep. This time, when I drifted off, the nightmares didn't come. Instead, there was only peace-a deep, restful peace that I hadn't felt in a long, long time.

And with that, I slipped into a dreamless, quiet slumber, the weight of my rosary still cradled in my hands.

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The next morning, I woke up feeling surprisingly rested, though the remnants of last night's nightmare still lingered at the edges of my mind, haunting me like a shadow that wouldn't quite leave. My hand was still wrapped around my rosary, the beads warm against my palm, offering a small measure of comfort. I stretched my body slowly, feeling the stiffness in my limbs, and glanced outside the small window. The sun was already higher than I'd expected-it seemed I had overslept. Panic immediately gripped me. What would Logan think?

I hurriedly threw the covers off, swinging my legs over the side of the bed and kneeling down, despite the rush of nerves. I clasped my hands together, bowing my head as I whispered my morning prayers. The familiar words brought me a brief calm, even as the thoughts of being late for whatever chores Logan expected of me tugged at the back of my mind.

"Dear Lord, thank You for this day," I murmured, my fingers still brushing against the smooth rosary beads. "Grant me the strength to face it."

After finishing, I quickly stood, pulling off my nightgown and grabbing one of the few dresses Megan had given me, throwing it on. My heart raced as I made my way to the bathroom, splashing cool water on my face, the coldness helping to shake off the lingering fog of sleep and the unsettling feeling from my nightmare. I studied my reflection in the mirror for a moment, my eyes still a bit puffy from crying the night before. I sighed and wiped my face dry.

With no time to waste, I rushed downstairs, the sound of my bare feet on the wooden steps louder than I would have liked. The kitchen was already bright with morning light, the warm glow seeping through the windows. As I stepped into the room, I hesitated, my eyes scanning for Logan. I half-expected him to be standing there, arms crossed, ready to scold me for sleeping late.

When I saw him leaning against the counter my heart skipped a beat.