Knockout

Chapter 30

*one month later*

I wake up in a sweat, Thatcher's shaking me violently begging me to stop screaming. When I finally blink myself awake I feel my face drenched in tears. The night terrors have gotten increasingly worse the longer he's been gone. I haven't left the house in weeks, and because of that neither has Thatcher. He won't let me do anything by myself, he's so worried about me.
Tonight for the first time I see just how tired he is. The veins in his eyes are bloodshot and pink from exhaustion. He doesn't sleep in his room anymore, that stopped after the fifth nightmare. Now he sleeps in my room with me. Or at least I think he sleeps, by the looks of him he probably just stays awake in case I start screaming.
The nightmares started only once a week, only nowadays they're two or three times a night. It changes between the same reoccurring dreams but the base is the same. I'm in danger, mortal danger, and I want Marshall. I scream for him so loud I think my vocal chords may snap, yet he never shows up. And whatever it is that's trying to kill me, gets me. With Marshall nowhere to be found.

"Which was it this time?" He asks me, moving the hair from my face.

"The alley." I say.

We've narrowed the dreams down to three names. The one where I'm completely in the dark and I can't see anything until the end when there's a flash of light and hands grab me, is called The Dark. The second is where I'm sprinting down a dirt road and I come to a big clearing. Then from out of the clearing comes a faceless man, and then I usually wake up. We've named that one The Meadow. And finally, The Alley. The Alley is probably the worst of them all because even though I can't see the attacker, I know it's Emmett. It's as simple as him and I standing in an abandoned alley, me screaming for Marshall. It sounds simple, but the thought of him as the attacker is what scares me the most.

"Rachel that's the third time this week." He tells me, worry in his eyes.

"I'm okay." I tell him, blinking to clear my vision. "I usually only have one more before I go to sleep for the night."

"That's it Rachel." Thatcher says, starting to cry. "I can't bare this anymore, I don't know how to help. I thought he'd be back by now Rach honest to God I did, but now we have to think about if he doesn't-"

"Don't say it." I stop him, wiggling myself free and shoving him off me.

"I wouldn't say it if I didn't mean it." He says, standing from the bed. "You're my sister, I care about your feelings but honey this just isn't healthy. You can't see but you've lost weight, you look tired, you don't sleep."

"He's coming back." I tell him, wiping away the tears I cried while in my sleep.

"Rachel." Thatcher balls up his fists and takes a deep breath.This is one of the rare times Thatcher lets himself get angry. "Tomorrow you're going to the therapist the lawyer recommended."

"I don't want to-"

"I don't care if you don't want to!" He yells at me. "You're going because I said so!"

"I don't need therapy." I hiss at him, pulling my knees up to my chest.

"Yes you do." He demands, crying many more tears now. "You're going, and you're going to continue to go until I'm not afraid to leave you alone in the bathroom for more than ten minutes."

"Thatcher-"

"Don't Thatcher me." He snaps. "I bet you can't even remember the last time you ate."

I stay silent. I really can't remember, I think it might've been Monday. I think. My silence only strengthens his point and he sits on the edge of the bed, putting his face in his hands and crying.