Winning her back

9. When fear wins

Ben

Lisa had been living with me for almost a month now. I'd be lying if I said that things got better. After her outburst at Dr Rowland's office, we barley spoke, and when we did an arguement would always transpire. I let her take the whole upstairs floor and made myself comfortable in the living room. I figured it would put some distance between us, after all, we were a divorced couple living under the same roof.

The truth is, Lisa wasn't the only one frustrated with our living arrangements. She would wake up screaming on some nights or even worse, sleep walking. Dr Rowland explained that it was post traumatic stress syndrome. She said it would subside with time, but it only seemed to get worse. Last night, I heard a loud thump and found her hitting the wall with bleeding knuckles. She was out of it, completely lost and had no idea what she was doing. It took me half an hour to calm her down, and even then, she was still on edge and wouldn't go back to sleep. I couldn't sleep either which was hence the reason I would stay up most nights, to make sure nothing fatal happened.

Tonight was one of those nights. It was almost midnight and I could feel myself dosing off. Lisa had gone to sleep hours ago. Just as I was about to shut my eyelids, I heard screaming coming from my bedroom. I jolted upstairs and found Lisa tearing the pillow apart.

"Lisa it's just a dream, calm down", I said to her taking a hold of her arms.

She was disoriented and scared, like most nights.

"It's just a dream baby", I soothed until she gave up in my arms.

"Where am I?" she asked looking around her.

"You're at home, safe and sound. Far away from him".

She pulled away from me. "You mean your home", she said with cold eyes.

"Our home", I sighed. I slowly reached for the light nearby and it was only after the room filled with light, that I noticed the consequences of her dream.

"Jesus Lisa", I said as I leaned over her, "you're bleeding". The hem of her white tank top was now red. She had ruptured her sutures.

I saw a glimpse of fear in her eyes before turning cold once again. She lifted her shirt up, confirming my suspicions.

"Let's get you cleaned up", I said reaching for her hand. Surprisingly, she complied and followed me to the bathroom. She layed in the bath whilst I searched for some local aneasthetic and new synthetic sutures.

Turning around, I noticed she had removed her top, leaving her only in her bra and pajama bottoms. I gulped and tried to ignore the distracting thoughts that crossed my mind. Obviously, I had seen her in her underwear before. Hell, I had seen her naked before, countless times.

My thoughts finally took over and brought me to the last time we were intimate with each other. It was the day before my birthday. She had worn a red laced bodysuit and surprised me when I got home from work. I remember destroying every little inch of it. We had been at it for hours, until morning came around and we both had to get ready for work. If I had known what would incur from there, I would have never let her leave my bed. I would have made love to her until she fell asleep again. I would have let her sleep in my arms until sleep would succumb to me. I would have held her and never let her go.

The feeling that came upon me at this instant, was different. It wasn't lust or wanting. It resembled sorrow and regret. She was in a state of despair and anguish, and I couldn't help but blame myself for all of it. If I hadn't fucked up everything, she would have still been working with me at the hospital, and that piece of scum would have never layed his hands on her.

"Are you going to stitch me up or what?"

Lisa

He slowly approached me and sat at the edge of the bathtub, looking down at me. I felt exposed and as if my body had a mind of it's own, my breasts started to perk up. I quicky crossed my arms to keep them in place. He must have noticed this action judging by the smirk forming on his face.

I took a deep breath and leaned back, giving him more access to my stomach. The bleeding had become worse and the smell of blood drenched the air.

I saw him loading the local aneasthetic and immediately became uneasy.

"Maybe we should call the hospital, and opt for general aneasthesia instead".

I saw him scrunch up his eyebrows. "That will take hours", he began, "you'll loose too much blood till then".

"Not if we go now", I objected as soon as he approached me with aneasthetic in his hands.

He stared at me for the longest time. "You have needle phobia", he said as a statement rather than a question.

"I don't have a phobia", I retaliated. "I'm just not particularly fond of needles".

The next thing I knew, the room fell into a pit of laughter.

"But-bu", he said in between laughs, "you're a doctor".

"So? Doesn't mean that I like to prick myself with needles".

"I don't understand", he said after he finally calmed down. "In med school, when we took each other's blood samp-

"I took both samples from my lab partner", I said cutting him off.

"I see. Well it will be over before you know it, I promise", he said.

I took a deep breath a prepared for the worst. I kept waiting to feel a sharp pain through my abdomen, but instead, I was greeted by a pair of lips gently pressing on my own.