Flashcards On The Wall

Chapter 41: Nightmares

"DON'T TOUCH ME! STOP! DON'T DO THIS! PLEASE! NO!!" I scream.

"Millie! Wake up! Wake up Amelia!"

I open my eyes gasping for air and see Gabriel standing beside me. He steps back adding distance between us.

"It's okay. You're okay. It's just a dream," he says.

It's been weeks and the nightmares are there every night. Tonight, was no different. Gabriel slept on the couch in the living room. Sometimes I think it's because he feels bad for me. Other times I wonder if it makes him feel better to be around. I can't imagine how it could. I'd go days without sleeping, instead spending each night on tasks I hoped would tire me out enough. If I'm being truthful, most of those nights, I didn't want to sleep. Every time I close my eyes, I see Charlie. It happens when I'm awake too. I imagine seeing Charlie around school, in places I'd never seen him before. Or when I run into a student that slightly resembled him, I'd panic. The shortness of breath. Sweaty palms. The desire to run. It's all too familiar to me. Other times I'd freeze. I saw no point in running.

I go to the bathroom, closing the door behind me. Standing over the sink I fight the tears which proves useless. Looking in the mirror I wonder the same thing I do every day. Why does it feel so real? Why is he in my head all the time? Why can't there be one night, one day when I don't hear his voice whispering in my ear or feel his hands touching me or remember the way he smelled? Nobody commented on my appearance, not that it mattered to me. Looking at my reflection was rare now and even when I did, I had no idea who this girl was. Then I repeat the same things over and over. It isn't real. It was a dream. A nightmare. He is not here. You're safe. It's all in your head.

Back in the room, Gabriel and I are both without words. I lean on the wall opposite him. I stare at the bed that used to provide me with comfort and then at the guy next to it that used to do the same.

"You can go home," I say.

"Why?" he looks confused.

"Do you really need a front row seat to the wreck I am right now?" I ask.

"I'm just glad I could wake you," he replies.

"I think you feel like you have to be here, and you don't," I respond.

"I want to be," he tells me.

"Two nights. That's all I agreed to. Tash will be here in a few hours. Surely, I'm no longer a flight risk," I say.

"Nobody called you that," he replies.

"Nobody to my face you mean," I clarify.

I hate making Gabriel feel like I don't want him around, but it hurts. It hurts to see him, hear him, even just thinking about Gabriel proves to be a difficult task. It usually happens on my time off. I analyze the situation from every viewpoint possible. More than I'd care to admit. To minimize it, I bury myself in school work and studying. As I walk to the kitchen to make tea, knowing sleep won't return, I remember the day Gabriel overheard me and Tash talking about it. She and Sean had planned an anniversary trip which she was rethinking due to not wanting me to stay alone. Gabriel volunteered to keep me company which I was immediately against, but I saw Tash, and her concern for me. I felt guilty. Tash has been as understanding as anyone could be. She deserved to enjoy this weekend. We both knew she wouldn't unless she knew I'd be okay. It would be constant calling and messages checking in. Tash didn't trust me alone yet. I agreed with the understanding that Gabriel would stay in the living room. We watched shows, or at least pretended to be. I on one couch and he on the other, waiting for me to grow tired. It was nearly dawn when my exhaustion got the better of me. I don't know if it was that I hated closing my eyes or that Gabriel was here that kept me up. I think it was both. The following night he suggested the watching take place in my room quickly adding that being in bed might help me get into the falling asleep mindset. He of course wouldn't be. Maybe it was because I knew he slept even less than I did the night before, but I agreed. I can't say I had peaceful dreams, but I did sleep which was the goal. I had warned him about the nightmares. Each time I woke to find him, I saw in his eyes the coldness that always present now. Every day he feels further away. Each day it seems less words are necessary. Not only do I know that I can't turn to him for things I need help with, I don't want to. Gabriel can't be the guy that saves me. He is also dealing with a lot. Honestly, I don't know what he needs. I don't ask him. He doesn't say. Maybe that's because I don't really want to know. Maybe it's because I already do.

Gabriel follows me to the kitchen, "You are safe Amelia, he can't hurt you."

"If you insist on staying, can we please not talk about him?" I ask Gabriel.

"I went to see him," Gabriel says.

What?

"You went to see..." I don't finish the sentence.

"You'd feel sorry for him if you were stranger by how innocent he looks. All I see now is a monster," he tells me.

That's because he is.

"No change, except that now when see him, I want to kill him myself," Gabriel continues.

"Then there'd be one bad guy dead, and one good one in prison," I reply.

"He had no right to put his hands on you," he explains.

Okay, now I'm angry.

"You think I don't know that? You think you're the only pissed off person here? You're not!" I say.

"I'm going to ask you to not show up here if all you're going to say are things that will upset me. I do a perfectly adequate a job of that all on my own. I don't want to hear about your cousin. Maybe you want to talk about him but I don't. I spend every minute if every day replaying what happened in my head. I see it. I hear it. I live it over and over and over again. It is taking every ounce of energy to keep my sanity and even that feels like a lost cause," I admit, "Gabriel, I know it sounds like I don't understand you, but I do. More than you think and that frightens me. It's too much. Too many what ifs. Too many emotions. It's too much for me to handle."

"I seem to recall you wanting me to speak candidly. Now it's too much?" he asks.

"Do you really think that what I want to hear right now is of you doing something awful like that?" I respond.

Gabriel takes a deep breath, "I know you get where I'm coming from more than anybody else."

More than he knows. But then again, how can I think that? I've never been in his place and he's never been in mine. How can we really know what the other must be feeling?

"We aren't those people. This isn't us. It can't be," I say.

"Maybe it is," he replies.