The Real Ram

Chapter 2

The first night I have a dream of the night my brother, Phillip, left. I came home to see about a dozen empty beer bottles scattered the floor throughout the house. I found my stepfather I guess I should mention I call him John, which is his name, not stepfather cursing and crying over how his son should have been stepson abandoned him. I relive walking into the room, and watching as he turned his drunken rage on me.

He advanced towards me, an empty beer bottle in hand, and I pleaded for him to stop. He didn't. He just continued to rain a shower of curses and blame on me. He lead me toward the living room and tripped over one of the bottles on the floor. When I hit the ground, he came and stood over me. I remember the look in his empty glazed over eyes when he told me he hated me...just before he lifted the beer bottle and brought it down.

I sit up fast, sweating and out of breath. Trish turns over in her bed, still sounding half-asleep she asks, "Zoe? You okay?"

I wipe the sweat, or tears, from my face and say back, "Yes, sorry to wake you."

"You started to talk in your sleep. No worries, just wondering who John is." She gets up and walks to my bed across the room.

I tense. How could I be so stupid to let myself talk in my sleep! I rarely speak as is, why would I suddenly talk in my sleep. Have I always done this? Ugh, I need to shut up. "No one. Again, sorry."

"It's not a trouble, I'm just glad you're okay." She pats my shoulder, and I try not to flinch. But considering the dream I just had I jerk away quickly. "I'm sorry, are you like a no touchy kind of person? I saw you before in the training room. You would tense up whenever someone would touch you. And of course Flame when he was so rude and threatening."

"It's nothing, I'm fine," I say softly.

Trish sighs, "No, I don't think it's nothing. I understand space though, if you ever want to talk... that's what roommates are for," Trish gets up and moves to her bed. I was right to think that she had all that anger bottled up because she had no one to speak to. Not even an ear to yell at. I wish I could tell her that I'll be there for her, but that promise itself is a lie. Phillip always said that to me when I was scared to death in my room, waiting for John to come in. My mom also used to say that when I was little. She'd always be there for me, no matter what. Look where that's gotten her. "Good night, sweet dreams Zoe."

"You too," I say, pulling the covers up. I turn and face my back to Trish. I slowly lift my fingertips up to my forehead, and feel the scar that bottle left me from that dreaded night. John was the only one that told me the truth. He always told me he hated me, he never sugarcoated anything. I guess that's the only reason why I stayed with him for so long. He told the truth when no one else did.