Nightmares

Chapter thirteen: Carter

Fuck's sake what was she doing outside at this time? I thought about our little encounter earlier, where I'd held a knife to her throat. I wouldn't have hurt her, but she needed to understand just how dangerous the night could be. Hopefully, I had put her off going outside again at night. If she wants to go outside, she needs to at least call me so that she has someone with her.

It was so strange, we hadn't known each other very long, and there wasn't that much of an age gap between us, but she reminded me of my sister in a way. I just had this overwhelming urge to protect her, to keep her safe, to keep her ignorant of all the fearful things I had seen and encountered during my midnight trips.

I couldn't bear it if something happened to her. I wanted to keep her wrapped in cotton wool. To keep her innocent of the night terrors that swarmed my mind. But I wasn't her dad. I couldn't control her the way I wanted to. I didn't want to control her in a patronising way, I just wanted to keep her safe. After all I had lost in my life, I wanted everything in my life that I cared about to be safe. I didn't want to lose anyone else.

She drove me crazy; she was so reckless, careless. She was going to do some stupid things if she wasn't careful. I pulled out a cigarette and the lighter, trying to calm the frustration that was bubbling in my stomach. I hadn't meant to be so rough with her. But she had to learn that the night was dangerous. No matter how beautiful it seemed.

I hadn't wanted to scare her when telling her about the shooting, but I'd wanted her to understand. Because I could tell from her expression that she thought my reaction was extreme. It wasn't. At least, not as far as I was concerned. But she didn't know what I had been through, didn't know the things I'd seen and heard. I didn't want her to know. But it was better than having her believe I was just crazy and overprotective. At least now, she just thought I was overprotective. I smiled to myself at the thought. If I could only tell her everything. Tell her everything that had happened over the last few years, tell her everything I had kept hidden for so long. She soon wouldn't think I was overprotective. Just...careful.

My phone buzzed in my pocket and I pulled it out, smiling at Harpers' message.

So you're quite the overprotective type, huh? ;)

Not overprotective. Just careful. I replied.

I sighed as I thought over what I'd done to her. This was going to haunt me. But strangely she seemed to get over it quite quickly. Too quickly. Was I really not that threatening, or was she just too trusting?

Maybe I should teach her not to believe everything everyone says. Because tough as she seems, I reckon she's never been in a fight or flight situation like me where her instincts have to be on high alert. I don't know, maybe I'm making mountains out of flea bites. She wasn't in any real danger, just a million potential dangers.

I scuffed the ground with my trainers, I needed to go home, I wanted to crawl into my bed and get out my drawing pad, to draw her again. To let my imagination fill in the gaps to her personality. But somehow, I couldn't quite bring myself to leave the peace of the night. I stared up at the stars and imagined her sitting next to me, gazing up at them with me. 

~*~

When I got home, Mum was up, and she glared at me. Oops, I wasn't usually out this long.

"Where the hell have you been for the last three hours?"

"Walking." I told her.

"You know you have to call me when you're going to be out for longer than an hour." She snapped.

"I left you a note." I muttered.

"That said you'd be back soon." She replied, her blue eyes glittering with fury. "Three hours is not soon enough."

"So what was I supposed to do? Just stay in my bed for hours with my nightmares driving me mad?" I snapped at her bitterly.

"You should still call me! I worry, you know." She shouted.

"Chill out, Til." I snapped at her. Addressing her by her first name, like I did when I was annoyed. "I'll always come back. You know that."

"Well what if one day you don't? You need to start checking your phone more often." She shouted.

"I'm an adult now. I can legally do what I want." I reminded her.

"That doesn't mean I don't still worry." She snapped.

"Well maybe you need to chill out more." I shouted, losing my cool. "I'm not as naïve as I was back then, Mum. I'm not going to wind up in a hospital bed, alright?"

I stormed off to my room and slammed the door. Needing to calm down. As the rage inside me settled down, I regretted what I'd said. I know she didn't mean any harm; I know she was just being protective. I know she was just scared after what happened. I shouldn't have shouted at her like that.

She had a right to be protective. She had lost both my father and sister, and she was afraid she had lost me that night. None of this was her fault. But she didn't realise that the son she had in her house now was nothing but the ghost of the one she'd had three years ago. She didn't realise just how much the memories haunted me. And I could only hope that she never found out. She was still so lost without her husband and daughter. She had lost her favourite child and her true love that day. And it still hurt her.
It always would.

Riley had always been the easy child. The one who got on with everybody. Me? I just couldn't stop picking fights with everyone and making things difficult for my parents. I'm sorry, Mum. My sister was always so much more understanding than I was. Even at nine, she empathised with people in a way I never could. I was too focused on my own goals to see anything else.

She should have been the one to stay. She could have made Mum happy in a way I couldn't. And I wished she was here now, because she was the only person who could make me smile properly. Sure, she had been annoying, but that little-girl laughter she had never had the opportunity to grow out of was so infectious.

As I sank into thoughts of my sister, I wondered how long it would be before the memories stopped slashing at me and keeping me awake. I wanted someone to take away the memories, but they couldn't. The only person who could do that was me. And I wasn't sure how to do it. Wasn't sure I wanted to.

I wasn't sure what would be left of me if I did.