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trigger warning

L E O

12:45 AM, Saturday March 18th-

Moonlight creeped in through the half closed blinds of my bedroom, the pearlescent glow illuminating Charlie's messy dirty blonde hair as soft snippets of breath left him. The room felt strange, not giving me the solace that it had in the past, that, mixed with Charlie's sleep induced hum a cruel reminder that I was, once again, not alone.

His presence, which, with the exception of right now, is more than often welcomed, makes me feel uncomfortable; like a thousand ants are crawling over me, nipping and biting my skin, tearing away my flesh as the weighted pressure in my chest reaches its breaking point.

I love Charlie, I really do, but the fact that I'm not allowed to be on my own during the night, in my own bedroom, fills me with a burning sense of trepidation and dread.

What if he hurts me?

I try to tell myself he won't, the same way I remind myself every night back at the teen home that Oliver won't. But I'm fighting a useless battle, the demons always win, no matter how much of a fight I give.

The one thing that excited me the most at the prospect of coming home, was the fact that maybe, just maybe, I'd be able to get a whole night of peaceful sleep without waking up to my accelerating heart beat and sweat covered sheets.

I thought I'd be alone, that for a moment I'd be free — that I wouldn't need to look over my shoulder, waiting — anticipating the next stab in the back to come. Because it would come, it always does. I thought I would be able to find that sense of comfort and safety I'd been longing for, in the space I'd created for myself many years ago.

I looked forward to basking in the comfort of being alone, surrounded by the things that made this house feel a little bit more like the home I once knew it to be.

It didn't work like that. It never does.

The rise and fall of Charlie's chest from the sofa bed under the window made everything a little too real, too terrifying. I couldn't escape the sound of his breath, or the uncharacteristic look of him hidden under darkened shadows of the night. I couldn't separate reality from hysteria.

The entirety of this place that had once been my sanctuary slowly faded away as the whistling in my ears increased. The hand crafted picture filled walls began caving in, wrapping me tightly in its embrace, suffocating me with all its might in it's vice like grasp. Hollowness and panic swirled into one as my eyes grew wide in terror.

The erratic beat of my heart felt like it bounced off of the enclosing four walls, booming in my eardrums, echoing around my mind like some sort of foreign mantra. The velour teddy bear sheets on my bed suddenly felt like sandpaper against my skin. The drawings and paintings pinned to every inch of my black bedroom walls seemed to call out to me, pulling me back into that same dark place I longed for nothing more than to forget.

It's too much, everything is too much.

I don't know how my legs failed to fail me in my panic stricken haze, I scramble from the bed without giving the room a glance, the harsh beating of my heart made me think my whole body may just combust into flames right here, burning me, searing my skin till I was nothing more than seared embers and ash.

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