Hacker (Book 1)

Veronica Chapter 19

The past two weeks I've gotten into a routine. Sebastian comes by every morning at 6:25, and we grab an early breakfast. Then we work out until lunch with a few breaks in between. After lunch we spar, and I learn new stuff.

It's nice to have a routine. However, this steady routine doesn't keep the nightmares away. Nothing does, no matter how tired I get. They seem to get worse. I haven't slept in days.

I hear the familiar knock on the door. I open to Sebastian leaning against the wall. He wears a magnificent smile that immediately gets my heart racing. I've gotten better at keeping my heart under control, but whenever he smiles my heart beats as fast as a cheetahs sprint. He's dressed in his usual black shirt, and sweatpants. His hair is disheveled, but not in a bad way.

"You ready?" He asks.

"No, I just came out to tell you to go away?" I say sarcastically.

He rolls his eyes, and says, "Let's go."

We reach the Cafeteria quickly. There are a few people scattered around, but most people eat later. I sit down as he goes to grab our standard breakfast.

"Here you go," he says, handing me my tray.

"Thanks," I say taking it.

There's a bowl of oatmeal, a muffin, a cup of fruit, and a glass of milk. He has the same only apple juice instead of milk. Though, the milk tastes much better.

"So, we're going to switch it up today," he says in between bites.

"Alrighty what's the plan?" I ask.

"We're still going to work out, but about halfway until lunch we'll have our training session. Then after lunch we'll start with weapon training," he explains.

"Really?" I ask, trying to sound excited.

"Yeah. I think you're ready," he responds.

"Okay.  What weapon will we use first?" I ask my curiosity over taking my tiredness.

"That is a surprise," he says mysteriously.

"Fine," I say reluctantly, knowing protesting will get me no where. That and I don't have the energy.

I lay my face in my hand, and I pick at my food. My stomach feels like it would reject anything that I put in it. Exhaustion doesn't help.

"Why aren't you objecting?" He asks, "I mean I know my good looks can leave you breathless, but you're usually more..."

"Obnoxious," I say almost harshly.

"I was going to say stubborn, in a good way," he adds. Then he looks at me and concern fills his eyes, "Are you feeling okay?"

"Fine," I lie, "Why?"

"You just don't seem like yourself," he answers with a concerned look still on his face.

"I'm just a little tired," I admit, but 'a little' is an understatement.

"Maybe we'll take it easy today," he says still looking concerned.

"You sure?" I ask, but inside I'm rejoicing.

"Yeah. You're not looking too good. I mean you always look good, but you just don't look as perky as you usually do," he stammers.

"As I said I'm just a little tired," I explain.

"Okay," he says, but he doesn't relax.

He was serious when he said we'd take it easy. The work out wasn't as half as intense as usual, and he obviously took it easy on me during sparring. Finally, when weapons training came he talked most of the time.

Dinner finally came, but I knew I couldn't eat. If I did I'd probably throw it up. So, instead of going with Sebastian to the cafeteria I started down the hall towards the stairs.

Only before I went very far, Sebastian grabbed my hand and asked, "Where are you going?"

"I'm not really that hungry. I'm just going to go to my room," I say.

"You sure," he asks.

I only nod, and start off towards my room. It takes a little longer than expected. I guess I'm moving slower.

I finally reach my room. I quietly slide in, and close the door. Before, I even reach the bed I collapse. My legs give out.

I don't attempt to get up. I know I can't. So I just curl up in a ball. I refrain from falling asleep, knowing it will be worse in sleep than it is now.

I don't know how long I've sat here before Sebastian came in, "Hey Veronica, I just wanted to check-." The moment he sees me he dashed to me. He kneels down next to me.

"Veronica," he says, filled with worry, "What's wrong? Are you okay?"

"I'm just tired," I mutter.

"Yeah you've said that multiple times, but obviously it's a lot more than you being just tired," he demands half angry half worried, "When was the last time you slept?"

"I don't know?" I say truthfully.

"Why haven't you slept recently?" He asks.

"I can't," I admit.

"What do you mean you can't?" He asks.

"Do you remember that night we went to the library, and I was screaming in my sleep?" I ask.

"Yeah, why?" He asks.

"When I was a kid my parents were killed. They were scientists, and they were testing gases for the government. My dad was in a hazmat suit in the containment area putting stuff into the controlled center where the gas was to see the reaction. My mom and I were monitoring from outside, but there was a malfunction, and the room filled with the poisonous gas. We thought he would be fine in the suit, but there was a tear. We heard a scream then his hand slammed against the glass. His suit was in shreds, and he was covered in burns. We had to watch as he died, because we couldn't get to him. We had to listen to him as he called out for us to save him," tears stream down my face as I talk, "Then, um, it was three weeks later. It was a Saturday, and I walked into my moms room to ask her if I could make pancakes. Even though she would always be the one to make them, and would just watch her," I say with a sad smile. Though tears still stream down my face as I continue, "So I went up to the side of the bed, and that's where I found her, a knife lodged in her stomach, drowned in a pool of her own blood. Her eyes were open, and she was just looking at me, but there was no life in them.
So every night when I go to sleep I relive it. Or I'm living their deaths. Or I'm the one killing them, and they've only gotten worse. And every time I wake up I throw up. I'm scared to fall asleep. So that's why I don't sleep. Why I don't eat."

Once I stop talking the tears flow faster, and I start sobbing. I can't stop, just like I can't sleep. It's like if I stop I'll be empty.

"Hey," he says taking my face in his hands, "I'm going to stay with you okay," he wipes several tears from my face, then continues, "and if the nightmares come I'll be right here okay. I won't leave you. You're safe."

I shake my head. I know if I open my mouth I'd start crying again. I think he sees that too because he starts talking again.

"Okay. How about we get you in bed," he says.

"I can't get up," I manage to say.

"That's okay," he says softly. He picks me up, and lays me on the bed, and pulls the covers over me.

He grabs the chair from the desk, and pulls it next to the bed. His hand finds mine. His fingers intertwine with mine, and for the first time in a long time I feel safe.

"Sebastian," I say, "Please don't leave."

"I promise," he replies with a kind smile, and I know he means it.