violet skies / michael clifford

a deer in the headlights

26. are you scared, jessa?

"Come here," Michael says, reaching out his arms for me. The sleeves of his sweater have come over his hands, adding to how sleepy he looks. His eyes are a little glossy. He brushes a piece of his fringe away, and then once again makes grabby hands at me. "Please?"

We've been here before.

The room is quiet. Very quiet. I know it might be stupid, but I'm still a little shaken from my nightmare.

"Why are you sad?" he asks.

"I'm not sad," I say. It's not a complete lie. I'm just a little jumpy and anxious.

"Whatever it is, can I kiss it better?"

"It doesn't work that way." I frown at him. It bothers me that he seems to think that my problems are insignificant enough to be kissed better. Like a bruised knee or scraped elbow.

Still, the words send a herd of butterflies right to my stomach, and I take a few hesitant steps towards him. I can't help it. If his kisses really could take the pain away, I'd never let him stop.

Michael kisses me lightly on the cheek. Then he brushes over the other one, humming against the hotness of my face. His lips make their way to my peck my lips, then he lets them travel down to the side of my neck. Slowly.

What he doesn't understand, as he keeps kissing my neck, is that my head isn't rolled back in pleasure. My hands aren't pushing against his chest because I want him close to me. I'm trying to get away.

I have to escape from the way his tongue licks fire down my skin.

The nightmare is back, but this time we're both awake. The fire spreads fast, and Michael doesn't stop. He's an arsonist, deliberately trying to burn me alive.

The butterflies have morphed into a big ball of anxiety. It's weighing me down.

"Mikey," I say, my eyes glued to the other side of the room. I'm trying to blink the tears away.

My heart is racing for all the wrong reasons. If he can hear it, he'll think it's out of excitement. But it's not. My heart is thumping because I'm scared. Terrified of what's to come, and how this will end.

I feel him smiling against my skin. He pulls me closer to him. "Princess."

And that's it. I might have gone with it a couple of weeks ago, but it's impossible after last night. It's as if my body has locked itself up, refusing to let him anywhere near me.

His hands are the hands of the monster, trying to get to me as fast as possible. The only difference is that Michael doesn't put one had over my nose and mouth.

I can speak.

"Stop. Please, stop."

"What's wrong?" Michael asks, swiftly removing his hands from me as if he's been burned. The light in his eyes fades fast.

What can I say to that? Just because I had a nightmare of him taking advantage of me doesn't mean I believe he would. I know Michael isn't like the monster I've been trying to forget. But there is something that makes me flinch and freeze when he's touching me.

"I had a nightmare last night," I say, not sure whether or not he will be offended if I tell him. "It felt so real."

"Why didn't you wake me up? You should have woke me up."

"Because you have trouble sleeping, and for once, you slept through the night," I say, looking down. Perhaps he's been right about the drugs being useful to help him sleep. I'm just gutted my company alone isn't enough. "It was about you."

"What, the nightmare?"

"Yes," I say.

"Why? What did I do?" Michael's eyebrows crunch together, eyes studying me intently. "Tell me, I need to know. It was only a nightmare, anything I said or did wasn't true."

"I know, but it felt so real," I croak out. "I'm sorry I said I was ready when I wasn't. I probably led you on, and you will probably hate me for it. But I can't do this anymore."

He reaches his hand out, but quickly lets it drop, as if he's caught himself doing something he shouldn't. After that, he keeps his distance. The space between us is wide as an ocean.

"What did I do?" he asks. "In the nightmare, I mean."

"I can't say it," I whisper. My voice won't let me speak up.

"You know I wouldn't do anything to deliberately hurt you. Right?"

I nod my head slowly. I know. Somehow, I know he cares about me. It just comes out in a way that is different from the way other people show it. Still, when Michael reaches for my hand again, my heartbeat increases the same way it had just hours earlier. My breath hitches in my throat.

"Michael," I say, "I was- I was-" I'm struggling to tell him about the night my innocence was stolen from me.

"You don't have to explain."

His hands brush over my sides, fingers stopping at the pocket where I've hidden his weed. Michael looks down at me, his eyes questioning if it is what he thinks it might be.

"I didn't. . ." I start, but his hand has already dived into the pocket, taking it out. I can feel my whole body melting under his intensive stare.

"I've been looking for this," he says, voice soft. But I can easily detect the sharpness in the velvety tone. And it scares me more than anything.

"I swear I wasn't trying to–"

"Why would you take it from me? You know I fucking need it. It's the only way I can relax."

Calum isn't here to help me now.

What will he do to me for taking it? I step backwards, making enough space for him not to be able to reach me. Another step. My back hits the wall, and I realise I'm trapped.

"I'm sorry," I say, and I don't think my voice has ever gone that high. "I'm sorry."

He's called me Bambi before, and that description couldn't me more accurate. With his green eyes glued to me, I feel like a deer in the headlights. I'm about to be absolutely crushed.

-

will he be angry with her?

will they ever get a happy ending?

thank you for 350k ily guys

~lauren