Where The Light Doesn't Reach

15.

Nightmares plague me throughout the night, all of them focusing on my worst fears.

The springs in the couch screech horribly as I shoot upright, clawing at my skin in an attempt to remove an invisible man's touch. I'm breathing heavily, looking around in the darkness as I try to place where I am, moonlight drifting in from the window.

That man usually closes the curtains.

The fear and disgust clings to me as I sit, tensed, attempting to control my panicked gasps, the soft blanket clutched in a trembling grip. My spine aches due to the stiff couch cushions, but the feeling only provides relief as it grounds me to reality. I take more time to process my surroundings, my beating heart echoing in my ears before I'm finally able to fall back down in exhaustion.

Without warning, I feel myself start to cry.

I can't help but think why me? Why am I cursed to experience these things when he's not even here?

There's some rustling followed by a grunt, alerting me to Gray shifting in his sleep. I try to stop the unwelcome tears, afraid that my sobs woke him. I can't stop sniffling though as I quietly fall apart, rubbing my eyes harshly while a shaky breath leaves my chapped lips.

"...Carter...?"

The small utterance of my name startles me, and I turn only to see Gray's eyes still closed, his expression lax in sleep.

Interesting—

"...don't do that, you'll adjustershrimp..." He mumbles, the first part barely distinguishable as it slides into gibberish, his eyebrows creasing.

Adjustershrimp?

I can't help the small laugh that escapes me as I shake my head in amusement, curious to know what he's dreaming about.

Thinking of dreams unfortunately brings me back to the nightmare I had moments ago, making me grimace—

—I doubt I could go back to sleep even if I wanted to.

I sigh before sitting up, running a hand through my hair tiredly as I turn and let my feet touch the floor. I stretch my legs out, still sore and weak but feeling much better than yesterday - the saltines and water more effective than I thought they'd be. It's not much, but it's definitely better than nothing. Some of the aching in my body was caused by the harsh fall I took when my mother hit me, meaning I should already be healing somewhat.

I stand, my legs still a bit wobbly as my knees crack, making me glance over at Gray in fear that the sound might've woken him. I'm relieved to see that he's just as out of it as he was a second ago, allowing a breath of relief to escape me as my body becomes used to staying upright. My muscles strain unhappily, but it doesn't seem like I'll topple over at any moment so I walk to the bedroom door, opening it as slowly and quietly as I can. I manage to drag myself sluggishly to the bathroom, a hand flat on the wall for added support.

Relieved to see a shower, I lock the door behind me before going to it and turning on the water. I hope I'm not being too loud, knowing that it's an inappropriate time, but there's no way I'd go without one after the nightmare I had.

I have to get him off of me.

It dawns on me that I didn't bring a towel or change of clothes, and I sigh as I resign myself to the fact that I'll have to air dry and put on the same outfit. I don't like the idea of rewearing my underwear, but I try to convince myself that it's fine since I barely changed them a few hours earlier anyways.

Hint: try.

Now that I'm here, I'm glad that I already seem to be feeling better since Gray doesn't have to help me change, even if the task is taking longer than it should without his assistance.