Chapter 18: Flashback- Nightmares

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Nightmares. Evil dreams that come to haunt you in your sleep. They've come to me, returned actually. I don't like them. I hate them. I know that we all have them but what I strongly dislike most about mine is what they're about. I'm not really even sure if they'd be considered nightmares, because the word nightmare implies fictional while mine are nothing but. Mine are more as repetitious memories that have very negative connotations. I would do anything to be rid myself of them, but sadly, I cannot do that. I constantly wish that I could clean myself of the haunting memories of my mother and father, but a niggling part in the back of my mind makes me think opposite. Makes me think that it's best that these thoughts haunt me. I'm the only one left on this earth that knows of them, so it's best that I remember them. Remember them when nobody else can.

"No. No. No. No!" I muttered under my breath until the last repetition where I let out a screech. My head was cradled in my hands so the fleece sleeves of my pajamas muffled the sound but my outcry was still high in volume despite so. I had been asleep but I had silently crept my way from the couch, where I had insisted on sleeping, into the washroom where the washer and dryer were located. I had wedged myself into the small cranny between the dryer and the wall. There was just enough space to give me enough wiggle room to rock myself back and forth like I usually do, and currently am.

Benji was very resistant to my request to sleep on the couch for awhile, until the episodes of horrible memories stopped bringing themselves to the forefronts of my mind, but eventually agreed after the first night of this shit and he hardly got an hour of sleep. He now knows why I wanted to sleep on the couch. No matter how much I may want his comfort when I'm in a mindset like that, I care about him and do not like the Benji that is cause of very little sleep. He's tired, obviously, miserable, and grouchy as fuck and its a much torture for me seeing him like that and tolerating the him that's like that and I don't want to put him through that to satisfy my own needs that are very minute when compared to

Soon enough footsteps could be heard. It was pretty obvious where the footsteps were coming from and who was the source of them. The shadow of a curly haired mop headed man grew closer then got close enough for me to look him right in his dead looking eyes. I don't even know what time it is but it's easy enough for me to assume that it was deep into the night. With the flick of a switch, the space went from appearing to be experiencing a brownout to looking bright as day.

"You doing okay?" The man being Benji asked, his voice sounding very groggy.

"I'm sorry," I apologized in a very muted tone. I felt bad for having woken him up. If I don't get any sleep because of my horrible and haunting memories, so be it, but if it interferes with Benji's sleep then I just feel guilty.

"No need to be sorry," He said as he outstretched his arms in my direction. He wanted to get me out of the corner that I had wedged myself into who knows how long ago. No matter how much I wanted to remain in my little hideaway spot, I knew that Benjamin would resort to forcing me out by grabbing hold of my arms and tugging me out so I decided to come out on my own accord to make this quicker for the both of us.

"You doing okay?" He repeated, shuffling over to be by my side. I shook my head slightly. Benji was most likely unable to see my head movement, but I was leaning on his shoulder so he probably felt it.

"Nightmares again?" Benji inquired, this seeming to be the most logical reasoning for my recent behaviors.

"Hit the nail right on the head," I commented, trying to lighten up he moment with a bit of humor but it didn't do any justice.

"Why do you think you have these repetitious memories of your parents?"

"I don't know..." I trailed off in response to Benji's question.

"Could it possibly because no matter how heartbreaking it may be, you still want to remember them?"

"Possibly," I murmured under my breath.

"You were an only child, right?"

"Yeah I was," I answered. "My parents tried to have another child but there were a couple of miscarriages after I was born then, well, you know what happened."

"I know your mom died from anorexia, but what did your dad die from?"

"I don't want to talk about it."

"Okay, but I just want you to know that you should feel comfortable talking to me."

"Drug overdose," I answered. "I got the news from my aunt Kenna who I had been staying with most of the time after my mother's death. My father claimed to just need some time alone which we totally understood, but the depression was just too much for him to handle on his own so he relied on antidepressants. The more he took them, the less effective they became, and the less effective they became, the more he took."

"I'm so sorry."

"You don't need to be sorry."

"I think that these memories have been plaguing your sleep because you want to remember your parents and want them to live on in your memories even though they may no longer be with us."

And to think that I predicted this all along.
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Apologies if this chapter is kind of repetitive of a past one, but this version kind of offered up more information that I felt was relevant.

I put the song If You Could See Me Now by The Script in the media because this song was what gave me the inspiration for this chapter. I put a live version of the song because I feel that it has a stronger effect on the listener than the studio version.

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