Back For You

        Back For You - Chapter One. 

                                                                                  Peyton Adams had a nightly occurrence.

One which involved her awakening from another horrific dream. She’d thrash and screech at the top of her lungs as she fumbled with the thin white sheets that felt like a boa constricting her.

She’d peer around her room for hours, searching for some non-existent sign of movement around her small, once comfortable, bedroom.

She’d stay awake after that. Hoping some ounce of exhaustion would leak into her system so she could drift off again. Even though she didn’t particularly like the nightmares, she’d rather deal with them than her pestering thoughts that reminded her of why she was so panicked and well, afraid.

It never happened.

So she would lean against her headboard and stare at the window that she made sure was tightly bottled every night. She’d hope the morning would come quickly and the loud clatter of pots and pans would arise from downstairs because of her noisy mother preparing breakfast for the family. She even looked forward to the moment of her mother came barging into her room and questioning if she had finally slept the full night.

For the sake of her mother’s sanity, Peyton would plaster on a bittersweet smile and nod. Though her mother could see through Peyton’s evident lie, she never said a thing about it. Afraid she would somehow stumble upon the subject they were trying their best to avoid and forget. Of course, it was easier said than done.

If anything, the remembrance of the traumatic experience Peyton encountered had gotten worse.  Though she would never voice this. Everyday she’d go to school and send that same bittersweet smile to the onlookers that gave her pitiful glances. Students and faculty members of the school would constantly ask if she needed anything.  Peyton was always quick to decline their polite offers. Mainly because she despised it.

She despised the attention she was getting, she despised the constant pity, and she especially despised how everyone treated her like some fragile china doll. She found that every conversation was like any other. Bland and useless, seeing as the students and teachers of the school always phrased their words so carefully. Like they had rehearsed them in their head before even attempting to speak with Peyton.

They were afraid to set Peyton off like she had lost it just a month after she arrived home. It was caused by two girls whispering the name Tyler Moore.

It was like an alarm went off in her body at just the mention of her former stalker’s name.

At first, she had tried to remind herself that Tyler Moore couldn’t reach her. He was off in some psych ward, miles and miles away. And she was safe. Finally safe.

But then the images of her traumatic experience came flooding back into her mind. And she could see him. Feel him as he had swiped her from her bed that night of the kidnapping. She remembers clawing and thrashing against his hold, and then the ghost of his fingers as they clamped around her shoulders to permit her from moving.

And then there were the flashbacks of being locked up in Tyler’s basement. The long six months she was encased in her own prison, wondering what she had done so impossibly wrong to deserve this. Had she been a bad person in life? Was it karma?

Her mind would run a mile a minute as she tried to come up with some possible conclusion. Either way, it ended up with her in tears and distress.  And the presence of Tyler Moore who would watch the weeping girl and try to reassure her that what he was doing was for the both of them. That he loved her and this was the only way they could be together.