Nightmares (slow updates!)

Chapter 30

Patrick's POV

Once we had returned home from the Quarry, poppy had insisted on watching Alice in wonderland once again. I didn't understand her obessesion with that stupid fucking movie but not wanting to argue with her in her injured state I pushed the tape in and pressed play.

She had watched it so much that the tape had started to skip just a bit somewhere in the middle causing an eery glitch to occur during the flower scene. Of course Poppy didn't give a shit, her eyes halfway closed as she tried her best to keep herself awake. She curled her arms against her chest as her breathing slowed and she drifted off, quiet sleepy sounds coming from her as she nuzzled her cheek against the couch.

I stood from the recliner, grabbing a nearby throw blanket and making my way over to where her sleeping form lay. I draped the cloth over her, moving my hand up to brush the stray hairs out of her face. Her stitches had began to heal a bit, but behind they left a jagged scar across her head that clearly wouldn't be going anywhere. I could tell by the way she hid it that she fucking hated it, the cringing face she made every time she looked in the mirror only making it more apparent. I rubbed my thumb across the skin above the gash, despite the disfigurement her face still held a look of innocence.

I made my way to the light switch and flipped it, dimming the room so that she could sleep comfortably before I turned back. I noticed her fathers office door was cracked open. Poppy still refused to go in there, opting to answer calls from the kitchen phone instead, still to terrified to step foot anywhere near that room. Curious, and still trying to piece together what the fuck actually happened that night I pushed my way inside.

The strange scratch marks that adorned the desk still lay prominently against the finished wood. What the fuck could have even caused that. My eyes fell upon the now empty rat cage. The new rat, which Poppy had affectionately named Artemis in memory of the once living Apollo, lived on the desk in her room, far from the danger that she believed engulfed this office.

I pulled back the rolling chair of the desk, placing my hands on the arms as I took a seat. I hadn't been meaning to be nosy, but I assumed Peter wouldn't mind seeing as he chose to leave his desk drawers unlocked. What a fucking idiot. I pulled open the first drawer to find pens, paper clips and other small items such as those. Closing it I moved on to drawer number 2 which was filled with small toys that I assumed he used to coax little shitty kids into talking more openly with him about there bullshit. Lastly I opened the bottom drawer. It was filled with papers, most of no significants to me, that was until i reached the bottom. A file with the words 'Poppy Moore Case" scribbled across the front caught my eye. I grabbed it, pulling it out and setting it on the desk.

As I opened it I began to read. The first few pages where just medical records from her childhood. Nothing to special, a record of a broken arm and a case of the flu that she had to be hospitalized for, but as I got deeper into the pages, the stranger it got. There were a stack of pictures that sat in the middle of the file. The first was of a kitchen, pieces of the tile where scattered around the floor coated in red.
Next was a knife, covered in blood, the end of the weapon chipped as if it had broken off from sheer force of hitting the floor. I clinched my jaw as I moved to the next imagine. It was poppy, a young poppy, covered in stab wounds with a tube down her throat. She was lying in a hospital bed.

What the fuck where these? Evidence?

I pushed the pictures aside and moved on to records of therapists that she had been made to speak with after the incident. "Patient and her guardian have complained of reoccurring nightmares, insomnia, irritability, and social isolation. Child shows obvious signs of post traumatic stress disorder." one paper stated. The next seemed to be a written down account of her own words on the situation.

"I fear leaving the house, I feel as if everyone around me wants to hurt me. I feel guilty for being so afraid but I know there's no one I can really trust. I just wanna feel normal again, but I don't think I ever will-". I quickly closed the file, hurrying to put it back where it had come from. There was so much more inside, medial paperwork's regarding her injury's, statements taken for her mothers court case, even more pictures, but it wasn't my place to be reading that shit. I felt like I was violating her with every word I consumed.

Standing from behind the desk I exited the room, making a b-line for the tv and turning it off. I moved to the couch, pulling poppy's sleeping form against me. I braced my arms around her and lifted her, heading for the stairs so I could take her to bed. She sighed, nuzzling against my chest for warmth.

As we made it to her room i set her gently on the bed, doing my best not to wake her. Her hands held hard onto the fabric of my t-shirt, a whimper escaping her mouth as I tried to pry her fingers off. Letting out a huff of defeat I kicked my boots of, grabbing the girl by the waist to move her over, making room for myself to lay beside her. She snuggled into me, her grip so hard on my clothing I knew I had no chance of escape.

I lay silent, my hand against her head, my thumb stroking her temple. I stared at her face in the moonlight that trickled in through the curtain against her window, trying to force myself to stay awake. As it got later and later I could no longer stand the burning of my eyes, letting them fall closed, wrapping my arm protectively around the girl next to me as I fell asleep.

All I could think about even in my dreams was that pictures of her laying limp against the hospital bed, her body covered in wounds as a machine breathed for her when she was unable to do so herself. She needed me, she needed me to protect her from the dirty shit world that we live in. She needed me to keep her safe, and I would do anything, even kill, to do so.