Nightmares (slow updates!)

Chapter 32

Poppy's POV

I pried my stinging eyes open, looking around to see that I had been moved to my bedroom, my duvet tucked carefully around my body. Panic quickly took over as I realized I was alone, the dark haired boy no where to be seen. Throwing the blankets from my body I scrambled off the bed, ripping open my bedroom door, the knob meeting the drywall with a loud thud.

I rushed to the bathroom and shoved the door open, the cold tile meeting my bare feet as I entered, but there was no one. "Patrick" I screamed, my chest rising and falling rapidly as I practically threw myself down the stairs. My feet hit the hardwood with a loud slap every fearful step. I ran to the living room, the kitchen, even fathers office but there was not a soul to be found.

Tears began pouring there way down my face, my fingers gripping the edge of his t-shirt that hung loosely off my shoulders. I backed myself against the nearest wall, wanting at least some cover for if that thing decided it wanted to come back now that I was alone again. "Fuck" I cursed, gripping my aching chest as I tried to slow my breathing.

Suddenly I heard the sound of the back door creaking open, the sound making it feel as if the walls were caving in. I tried to think of where to run to, where I could hide that it wouldn't be able to find me, but my terror kept me frozen in place. I clenched my eyes shut and shielded my face with my hands, thinking this would surely be some of my last moments, my sobs echoing loudly through the living room.

I felt a hand come down against the side of my head and I screamed, the sound piercing and guttural burning my vocal cords. "Poppy, it's me. Hey, hey, stop, it's just me." Patricks voice spoke as he grabbing my wrists, prying my hands away from my face. "Please. Please don't hurt me." I sobbed, desperation running through body as i begged.

The feeling of his hands brushing over my face took over my senses, my body hiccuping with every breath that came and went. "Open your eyes, flower." He told me, my head in his hands as his thumbs ran gently over my brow bones. I shook my head, refusing. I didn't want to open my eyes. I couldn't. If it wasn't really him, if it was that thing again, pretending, taunting me, I couldn't take it.

I felt hands grip the front my t-shirt, pulling me forward, the sudden jerking movement forcing me to look. There he was. He looked completely himself, black hair messy from sleep, torso bare, the lingering smell of cigarette smoke wafting off of him. "Are you real?" I questioned, it had deceived me before I had no doubt that it was capable of doing so again. "I like to think I am" he replied, releasing his grip on me.

I sighed, feeling like I could breath for the first time since I woke up, my sobs of fear turning into sobs of relief. "I got scared. I couldn't find you. I-I thought-" I paused as I felt him take hold of my face, my cheeks pinched between his forefinger and thumb. "Take a deep breath." He commanded, tilting his chin up as he waited for me to follow directions. I did my best to take a breath, sobbing once again as I let it out.

He was patient with me, giving me the time I needed to gather myself, not leaving from his spot squatted in front of me. Once I was able to quiet my crying, sniffing in embarrassment at the thought of how I must have looked.

Pathetic... crazy.

"I'm sorry" I hiccuped, wiping my eyes with the back of my hand, doing what I could to pull it together. I didn't want him to see me like this, or anyone ever for that matter. God I wanted to crawl in a hole and die, my face heated up, surely bright red as I focused my gaze to the hard wood flooring beneath me. "You don't have to apologize."

Standing, the boy took hold of my hands in his own, pulling me to stand. He lead me through the living room and back up the stairs, the wooden planks creaking under our weight as we ascended. Making our way to the bathroom I watched as he pulled open the cabinet, grabbing my pain killers with one hand and preparing a wet soapy wash cloth in the other.

I immediately shook my head, knowing what was coming next. "We've got to clean it, flower. Doctors orders" he shrugged. "No way." I protested, keeping him at arms length with a hand against his diaphragm. Ignoring my objection he took a seat on the closed toilet lid, pulling me to straddle his lap, hooking a arm around my waist to prevent my escape.

His eyebrows knit together in focus as he began cleaning around my stitches. I sighed, giving up just this once and allowing him to finish. I grimaced at the feeling of the washcloth moving over the broken skin, instinctively moving away from his hand. I gripped tightly onto his shoulder, biting harshly into my lower lips as I did my best to focus on anything else.

"You're going to have to tell me what happened at some point." He spoke as he set the cloth down on the edge of the tub. I opened my eyes, staring at his chest blankly. I could never tell him, he would think I'd lost my mind. "I already told you, I just hit my head." He rolled his eyes at my answer.

"Huggins found you covered in blood, barefoot, lying on the side of the road like a dead body." He countered, tilting my face up to meet his gaze. I just shook my head, not knowing what else to say, what excuse to come up with to get him to stop asking. I leaned forward, my lips meeting his as my hands made there way to the back of his neck.

His hands fell to my waist, thumbs digging into my rib cage as he pulled me against him. He played along with my distraction, allowing me to kiss him despite his usual dislike for such intimate things. As I pulled away for air he leaned his forehead against my own. "What did you see?" God, again with the questions. I gave one last peck on the mouth, a sarcastic smirk taking over my face "I could tell you. But then I'd have to kill you."