like suicide, only softer :: ryden/frerard

like suicide, only softer.

(smut/trigger warning in description)

He could hear her screaming. He always could, but he couldn't help her. He stood frozen in place, paralyzed with fear. It was the same scenario every single time. He could hear her muffled little cries for help; he could hear her calling his name. He could see her little body struggling, trying to find something to hold on to. He wanted to help her, but he couldn't.

He calls her name, but he can't hear his own voice. Her cries are faint now, her body barely struggling. Somewhere in the back of his mind he knows this isn't real, but that doesn't make him any less terrified. It doesn't make this time any different or any more substantial.

He watches her stop moving, her body now floating down the creek, and his eyes are widened and leaking helpless tears. He still can't move.

"Ryan!" he hears. "Ryan, what happened?" The voice is louder now, right beside him. It's a blur of sound and color, shrieks and screams as they see the tiny body floating in the water below. "What did you do?!" they scream at him. "Why didn't you help her?"

"What did you do, Ryan," he hears again, but it doesn't sound like a question, it sounds like defeat, the voice coming out shocked and devastated now. There's screaming, shoving, and then he's on the ground. And yet, he still can't move. There are hands on his shoulders, shaking him over and over, and he feels more than hears the scream come from his mouth. It hits him, the realization of what happened, and how he could have prevented it. He screams again and again, the shaking increasing rapidly until his mind blanks out.

"Ryan!" he hears, but this time it's a different voice. The hands on him are gentle, shaking him out of his bad dream. "Ryan, it's okay. You were dreaming. It was just a dream," the nurse soothes. He's breathing hard, only just now realizing that he was screaming. His eyes are wet, and he's shaking, terrified. "It was a dream," she repeats comfortingly.

"No, it wasn't," he shakes his head furiously back and forth, pulling his knees to his chest and rocking slowly. "It was real," he whispers roughly.

"Was it the same dream, Ryan?" the nurse asks softly. A whimper leaves his lips, and he holds his legs closer to himself. He doesn't answer her, just nods quickly. "We've talked about this," she reminds him. "It wasn't your fault."

"Yes, it was!" he yells, warm tears streaking his face. "It was," he insists. "It's always my fault. I could have – could have helped, could have saved her," he rambles, mostly talking to himself, rocking back and forth faster now.

The nurse sighs resignedly, used to this happening at least twice a month. She hands Ryan a pill, and he eyes it warily.

"No," he shakes his head. "No, you're trying to hurt me. Those pills will make me forget," he says, still shaking his head.

"They're only to help you sleep," she assures him, handing him a glass of water. "I promise, they'll make the nightmares go away. You've taken them before, remember?"

Ryan stops moving, staring at her, his mouth tensing and twitching like it always does. He tries to slow his breathing, tries to remember if she's telling the truth. Do those pills hurt him? Is she lying? "O-okay," he agrees, bringing the pill to his mouth with a shaky hand, quickly swallowing it and washing it down with the cold water. "No more nightmares?" he asks her with big eyes.

She smiles kindly, patting his hand. "No more nightmares. Now let's get you back to sleep." She helps him settle back into bed, sending him one more smile before turning the lights off and exiting the room, shutting and locking the door behind her. Ryan breathes deeply, his eyebrows creasing in concentration as he tries to get a hold on himself. He hums to himself softly under his breath. He'll be okay.