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There's nothing like raw vulnerability. Baring your soul to another human - allowing your naked truths to be trusted in their hands. There is nothing scarier in the world, but it's also thrilling, isn't it? Knowing that someone has the tools to hurt you but having the courage to give a piece of yourself to them, anyway.
My mom always told me to leave my mark on people, because they will never forget the feeling of when I trusted them with a piece of my heart. I never gave it much thought because apart from Lily, I never anyone get that close.
I lay here, staring at the sleeping man next to me in my bed and his face illuminates by the rays of light peeking through the blinds. They dance gracefully across his smooth skin as the curtains blow from my cracked window that faces a formidable brick wall.
As play back the reel of everything he has done for me, I can't fight the urge of wanting to give him my heart... to tell him all of the dark secrets that haunt my past. I trust him.
I know I said that I wouldn't... that I shouldn't open myself back up to a complete and total stranger - because he is, in retrospect, just that. A stranger. I know nothing about him, nor does he about me. But my head and my heart are both in agreement that I want to. I want to know everything there is to know about Dawson King.
His once serene expression turns to distress as his body twitches and sweat accumulates across his face and chest. I place my hand against his cheek, trying to soothe him, but his eyebrows furrow together right before he jerks away from my touch.
"Don't!" he shouts, making me jump from the sudden noise.
I place my hand on his bicep, trying to see if he's having a nightmare when he begins to throw his arm multiple times in my direction like he was trying to fight someone off in his dream.
I manage to block a couple swings with my forearms crossed above me, but one of his powerful blows breaks through, plummeting directly onto my left side and cracks against my healing ribs. The sharp impact knocks the wind right out of me, feeling like it had ripped all the air straight from my burning lungs. I roll away slowly, still holding my side as I catch my breath, hoping to avoid any further outbursts.
"Please stop...," he whimpers lowly, barely loud enough for me to make out the words as his limbs stop thrashing. "P-Please..." His voice is broken now... sad, unlike before where he sounded like he was fighting out of pure rage. Every part of me yearns to know what is troubling this man in his subconscious.
"Dawson wake up. Come on, baby. It's just a dream." I gently nudge his leg with an outstretched arm to keep my distance, but he yanks it away like before with his face.
I freeze, realizing that's the first time I called him baby. I always just call him by his first name or the nickname I gave him at the gym.
He whines again, the sound ultimately breaking my heart bit by bit. I crawl closer, watching his arms out of the corner of my eye, making sure they don't come swinging at me again. I settle next to his hip and carefully lean forward to cup his face in both of my hands.
I know it can be dangerous to wake people with night terrors. Lily has learned the hard way a couple times. The guilt I felt after I found out that I accidently hurt her was much worse than anything that haunted me in my dreams. I remember my nightmares, but the night terrors are always scarier for the people watching in my opinion, because I'll wake up not knowing I had one until I see any damage I've left behind. But I can't tell if this is the same thing. His thrashing at the beginning made me question it, but from what I know, nightmares occur during REM sleep in the early morning. So, I'm stumped.
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Leading Her from the Darkness
ChickLitAustyn Bennett has experienced more trauma than any 25 year old should. She is fighting and losing against her PTSD and reckless behavior. She has no regard for her own life-only craving a temporary escape from the nothingness that resides in her so...