Spoby One-Shots [COMPLETE]

With You Here

"Choose," an unrecognizable voice boomed. My hair was clinging to my skin, due to the horrendous amount of sweat that had escaped my pores.

"What if I don't want to?" I yelled, challenging Charles. It had been three long weeks of nothing but torture. I had burn marks on my arms and bruises along my back to prove it. I was done with Charles and his games.

As I sat in front of the table with pictures of my friends and a lever above each one of them, I was suddenly overwhelmed by a loud screeching sound booming throughout the room. My ears ached, so I quickly covered them, in hopes it would be a little bit better. It wasn't. The sound only got louder, if that was even possible. I let out a loud scream as I gave in, closing my eyes and pulling a random lever.

My action was only followed by an ear-shattering scream, and I knew exactly who it was. Who I had just hurt.

---

I jolted awake, sweat soaking my face and gasping for air. My face was so soaked, I could hardly tell what was sweat and what was my tears.

I may have escaped that dollhouse, but I could never truly forget it. Even fifteen years later.

My mother always told me that crying showed weakness. Even after I escaped that hellish place, I was scolded for ever bringing it up. When I would wake up in the middle of the night, crying from my nightmares, much like tonight, I was simply scolded for waking everybody up. My mother had decided that the best way to grieve about it was acting like it never happened. That was the Hastings' Golden Rule. But that rule died with her.

I began hyperventilating, knowing exactly what would happen next. My nightmares would startle me so much that I would start to scream. I couldn't control it most of the time, especially when my nightmares involved me hurting someone. I was completely consumed.

My husband jolted awake as well, frightened by my screams.

"Spencer? Oh my god, what's wrong?" Toby asked, automatically knowing to cradle me in his muscular arms. I was shaking so badly, I was surprised he even had a grip on me.

My screams and cries were muffled by his shirt, and he held me safely until I began to calm down.

"Spencer, what happened? Did you have a nightmare?" Toby asked, the concern evident in his face and voice. He hadn't had to deal with my nightmares since we left Rosewood after I graduated high school.

"Not just any nightmare," I said, my voice small, "I dreamt about... the place." I admitted, avoiding eye contact with him.

Since the dollhouse, I've been regularly seeing my therapist. She thought it would be healthy if I didn't talk about it to other people unless I dreamt about it. The only other time I would talk about it was during our sessions. Despite talking about it every week, she really helped me get over most of my fears.

This last week, she was unable to see me, due to the fact that her daughter was having a baby. She rarely left me like this, but when she did, I was unable to sleep. The nightmares would come back, and I couldn't sleep without my medication, and I learned to pace myself with those pills. Toby was in control of where my pills were and how many I had.

"Baby, you're not in that place anymore. You and your friends are alright. You're all safe now." Toby said, comforting me perfectly, "Just breathe. Remember what I taught you." He got up from the bed and quickly ran to our bathroom, retrieving one pill from a small orange bottle.

He made me a glass of water and stayed by my side as I took the pill and chased it down with some water. His hand was firmly placed at the small of my back, and he pulled me even closer to him. It was as if he was mentally saying, "I'm going to protect you with my life. Nobody is ever going to hurt you again."

Just as my breathing was about to be normal again, I heard the door creak slightly. My heart rate increased dramatically.

"What was that?" I asked, starting to panic again. Just the sound of a creaking door would bring back so many unwanted memories.

I squeezed Toby's hand, trying to prepare for what was going to happen. However, I feel much more relieved when I see the beautiful face of our four-year-old daughter, Lia, appear in the doorway.

"Why is mommy crying?" She asked, close to tears herself. She had never seen me cry before. She claimed that she was awakened by my scream.

For a second, I felt my world stop. I stopped and realized what I had now. Toby and Lia saved my life. If I never met Toby, and we never had Lia, my life would have no meaning. I would've given up in that damn dollhouse. But I didn't. They help me through every single thing life throws at me. It almost seemed too good to be true. And I cherish every day that I have with them.

"Mommy just had a nightmare," I explained, petting my daughter's hair, which was nearly identical to mine, "but I'm alright now."