Resist

Epilogue

I was awakened abruptly as something whacked me in my sleep, hitting my stomach and making me jump awake. As soon as my brain had cleared from the foggy haze of sleep, I knew what was going on. 

“Jack!” I exclaimed, rolling over to put a hand on the young man beside me. I shook his shoulder, trying to wake him. “Jack, you’re dreaming again! Wake up!” 

It was nearly impossible to pull him from the nightmares sometimes, his limbs flailing as he tried to escape the torture his mind conjured. It had become a regular occurrence for me to be woken like this, with Jack beside me silent but tumbling in the blankets, curling in on himself as he tried to protect his body from harm that was not truly there. He kicked and flailed, fending off a person who did not exist; I was the only one beside him but his nightmares always told him otherwise. 

“Jack! Jackson!” He did not wake and his eyes roamed beneath the lids, frantically glancing about as he suddenly wrapped his arms around his torso, hugging himself in an attempt at protection. His legs kicked out, warding off his imaginary assailant. “Jack!” I tried again, putting a hand either side of his face.

His eyes flitted open, terror clear in them. In foresight of what was about to happen, I removed my hands and jumped back, distancing myself from Jack. He lunged forwards, grabbing the air where I had been moments before. The first time he had experienced one of his nightmares, he had grabbed me when he awoke thinking I was the torturer from the dream. Nothing had happened, he had come back to reality quickly and realized that it was just me and we were in the hotel, but it concerned both of us that someday he would not wake quick enough and harm would come to me. We had been lucky thus far. 

“Essie,” he murmured, flopping back onto the pillows, air puffing from the geese down inside. He closed his eyes as he let it sink in that it had just been a dream.

Now that he had said my name, I knew he was fully out of the nightmare and I scooted closer again, wrapping my arms around his torso and hugging myself against him. Although he wouldn’t admit it aloud, I knew the comfort of touch was something that he desired at times like this, a touch that was gentle and soothing. 

“Do you want to talk about it?” I asked. Sometimes he shared the dreams, shuddering beneath my hands as he told me about reliving the tortures he had endured in his few days with Xavier. Other times (and when I feared the dreams were worse and he couldn’t bring himself to repeat the horrible occurrence) he would simply shake his head no and bury his face into my neck, hiding. 

The experience plagued his mind and no matter what he tried he could not be rid of the nightmares. Eden had given him a herbal tea once before bed that was made from a plant that helped people sleep. She thought that perhaps if he slept more deeply, the dreams wouldn’t come. It had backfired horribly. He had bumped me awake, just like tonight, and I had tried to wake him. But the sleep remedy had kept him trapped in the dream for almost another ten minutes, the medicine so potent it had quelled his ability to wake during the middle of his sleep cycle. When he finally woke, after the dream had passed, silent tears had been spilling down his cheeks and he’d been trembling so much he shook the bed. I had been crying too, his inability to wake terrifying me as he had thrashed about in the bed. 

Now, I waited to see if he was going to share his dream from tonight or not. I liked to think telling me about the dreams was a sort of therapy, an exercise that made them more bearable. I did not actually know if it helped but when he was willing to share, I was willing to listen. 

His eyes flicked open and he turned his head to look at me resting beside him. I ran a reassuring hand up and down his side as I saw the fright the green depths still held. It never seemed to leave him anymore, not as apparent as it had been when we had first returned but still there, always behind those iridescent green irises.