Page 68 of Darkened Promises

Though my body betrays me. My limbs refuse to move. I’ve never felt more trapped than I do at this moment…inside my own body.

“Hello, kitten…”

The voice, his voice, echoes around me in the dark. The words prickle against my skin, and I surge against the constraints again.

No, no, no. I can’t be here still.

“Are you being naughty, kitten? I don’t like disobedient pets.” The whisper skates across my skin, the burn it leaves in its wake agonising. My body bows, and a silent scream leaves my lips.

I try again to open my mouth to scream for help, for anyone, for something. No sound comes. It’s trapped inside me too. My cries bounce around the confines of my mind, screeching back at me.

“Oh, kitten. Pets don’t have words. And that’s what you are, my pet. MINE. Always mine.”

Bolting upright, an agonising sound reverberates around me as I wrap my arms around my shaking torso.

“Shhh, honeybee. It’s okay, you’re okay. You’re safe. It was just a nightmare.” A pair of warm, firm arms wrap around me. My body tenses at the masculine voice, and panic seizes me tightly in its grip.

“Little tease.” A weight dips on my other side, and more arms encircle me. The pressure seeps into my body slightly. A soft light flickers on in the room, grounding me and pulling me back from the terror in my mind. Awareness takes hold, but it’s hard to concentrate over the painful wailing… Wailing that’s coming from me?

My mouth snaps closed, snuffing out the sound, and it leaves the room in a startling quiet. As my ears stop ringing, soft, muffled mumblings come from the other side of me.

“…got you, beautiful.” Sweet Bry.

“You’re safe, Rosy.” Grounding Noah.

“…back to us.” My Maxi.

And…humming? Tears stream down my cheeks, dripping off my chin and saturating my sleep shirt as I hear Nate humming for me, his body wrapped around me and rocking slowly.

A sound a little too close to a sob slips through my shredded throat, and my head falls back onto Nate’s shoulder as I stare up at the ceiling, unable to face their tortured faces.

The nightmares still come each night, but I haven’t woken up screaming since the first week, and it makes me feel weak.

Why can’t I move on, to do better, be better?

“I’m s-sorry,” I croak, the muscles in my neck working hard to strangle the words and stop them from leaving.

They all try to brush away my apologies, their reassurances falling flat at my rising anger.

“I think I just need to sleep by myself.” I blink roughly, ignoring the way my chest squeezes at the idea of being alone with my dreams. But I need it, the space to fall apart and not feel guilty that I’m still breaking, still fracturing apart rather than healing like they need me to.

“No, we can stay here with you. None of us mind as long as we’re here for you,” Bry says gently, shaking his head. His handsome face is lit up by the lamp, and his concern is so clearly written across his features that my hands fist in my sleep shirt.

They’re all so perfect.

“I want to sleep alone,” I push, my resolve coming steadier even though my mind desperately wants me to reach out, to cling to them. I ignore it, firmly squashing the needy voice.

Because the pitying, the understanding looks…the “trauma” everyone keeps referring to? The patience to ignore it all, to nod along and agree, is wearing thin.

Don’t they know?

I was there.

I lived through it.

Now I’m just trying to move on from it. But I can’t when both my mind and everyone around me won’t let me forget it.

Just let me forget. The scream builds up in my throat, clawing to be released.