Stepbrother (Sequel to Stockholm Syndrome)

40

That night, I wasn't even aware of how distraught I had been the whole day because of what had happened last year. I took a deep breath and huddled underneath the blankets, stuffing my head into the pile of the pillows. Luke was back to sleeping in his room since Melissa left but I could hear the TV still on and I figured he would either be up until early morning or he would crash on the couch. These were the thoughts going through my head instead of trying to figure out why my fingers were shaking so hard.

I woke up hours later from movement on the bed. My body was soaked in sweat and tears were gently sliding down my face. Luke was sitting next to me, his legs hanging over the side of the bed. He tugged on my waist a little to get me into a sitting position.

"Alright, I think you need to take a shower." He murmured gently, guiding me to the edge of the bed. I glanced at the clock.

"Luke, it's two in the morning, what happened?" I mumbled, running my hand through my hair as the other swept the moisture off my face.

"I heard you screaming. It must've been a nightmare. You were thrashing pretty wildly, kind of like a different type of sleepwalking." He explained. As soon as the description left his lips, the images came streaming back. I remembered the nightmare I had been having before Luke woke me up. The feeling of being followed I'd had the night he took me. The absolute terror when he first grabbed me. The sickness I felt in the pit of my stomach the first few days Luke had brought me here. How raw my throat had been from all the terrified screaming I'd done. That mixed with having no conversation the first few days had left my throat in shambles.

The images in my head continued, replaying my dream. I remembered running from him. I remembered his helper finding me in the woods. I remembered being terrified of him because, when he found me, I believed he was pissed at me for kicking his groin earlier. But both the boys' sense of calm had overtaken them and I think that was more horrifying than their anger would have been.

Jumping out of the car at Starbucks came back to me as suddenly as it had in the dream. I recalled nearly getting hit by a truck as I ran and slightly hoping Luke was close enough behind me that he would get run over.

I recalled the night that the policeman had come in search of any clue of a kidnapping. I shuddered at the memory of how well Luke had kept any trace of me hidden even though I had been in the upstairs closet screaming.

Days of being doped up on pills crossed my mind right before the times Luke and I kissed fluttered across my memory. I remembered jumping off the balcony and his horrified screams as he chased after me. I remembered his calm fury after our lips met.

Then I remembered his photo books. I remembered finding them and reading about myself and my family. Then Luke told me who we were to each other.

My brain traveled over these topics quickly, it all coming in a flash, but that was as far as Luke let me go. He had no way of knowing what was going through my mind at the time but he knew I wasn't in a great mental state. He guided me up and out of the bed while I tried to distract myself from the recent nightmare and the looming memories that made me shake out of fear of being so close to Luke.

"You should get in the shower," Luke suggested. "You were sweating pretty badly." He murmured. I nodded in confused agreement. He led me into the bathroom and after turning on the water, I brushed off his gentle and anything but demanding attempts to help me with my clothes.

"I don't want to undress," I mumbled, hugging myself. Luke acted quickly under the pressure of trying to take care of me.

"Alright." He nodded. "Go ahead and keep your clothes on." He decided. "I guess they'll need a washing as well." He assured me. To my half working brain, it didn't make sense to me that I was going to be drenched until I stepped into the shower, fully clothed. Luke nodded more to himself than to me.

"I'll go change the bed sheets." He murmured. "They'll be too hot if you get into them as they are." He decided. "Be careful." Then he closed the shower door and walked out of the bathroom.

While I was in the shower, I tried to level out the horror I was feeling towards Luke and replace it with good thoughts.

I remembered him telling me his reasons for taking me. He hadn't wanted the first few months here to be Hell. He had saved me from a fate much worse.

I recalled the short stories he would tell me when I was struggling to fall asleep at night. And even though he was my kidnapper, his voice was soothing enough that I fell asleep.

The way he was so gentle every time he brushed the hair away from my eyes crossed my mind. I thought about how he had complimented my eyes before.

I remembered how sorry he had been every time he accidentally brought me pain, physically or mentally.

The way Luke treated his mom popped into my head and I appreciated the warmth of their relationship.

I thought about all the terrible things about him that had flashed through my head when he woke me up. And I realized that each one of those times, he had done something equally good in attempts to overrule the bad. He had assured me he wouldn't hurt me on purpose. He had wiped my tears away from my eyes. He had brought me to his favorite park that he normally went to alone. He took care of me when I'd gotten sick. He helped me through the anorexia and the scars from my past. He wasn't a bad guy. And he meant the world to me.

This helped calm me down until Luke knocked on the door and came in upon invitation with a towel and full willingness to help me get dried off. He also brought me a pair of leggings and a shirt of his he knew was one of my favorites to steal. I gave him a grateful and desperate hug and didn't let go for a long time.