Rose and the Thorn (Fallen Tales series)

Chapter 39

Chapter 39
Patrick
My body shook viciously as the dark soldiers took over my dreams. Blood slashed across the walls as the screams of my sisters fill my mind. My mother screamed for my help but was cut off by her killer. Strong arms took me by the neck as I felt the sharp blade of the axe pierced through my skin.
The colour of brown came into my view as I realized that Rose was coming into the room.
"Hey Patrick."
I saw them take her by her hair, dragging her like a rag doll. I struggled to get free but their grip wouldn't give. I was forced to watch my biggest fear as they sliced her throat. I felt the urge to be sick and cried out in pain as her lifeless body fell to the ground.
I shot up as sleep was being torn away from me. I swung my legs over the side of the bed, trying to catch my breath. Sweat poured off me as the taste of copper filled my mouth.
"Patrick?" Rose's voice made me feel sick to my stomach. Isn't safe. They will come for her too. I heard her get out of the bed and pull on my grey t-shirt. She came around and knelt in front of me, looking up. She placed her hand against my forehead.
"Oh God Patrick your burning up."
"I - had - a - dream," I said trying to catch my breath.
"Just stay there Patrick, let me get you a cold cloth."
I quickly snatched her hand as she stood.
"Please don't leave me," I begged. She knelt back down.
"Patrick you're burning up."
"They killed you. They killed all of you."
I saw the hurt in her eyes as her hands ran up and down my arms.
"Oh Patrick. I'm here, I'm alive. They didn't kill me."
"Oh God," I groaned dropping my head in my hands.
"Patrick I'm going to go get you a cold cloth."
I didn't try to stop her.
She found me five minutes later, on the floor next to the bed. The cool carpet was nice against my cheek. I felt the cold wet cloth on my forehead making me shiver. My fingers found their way to her thigh. I needed to feel her to convince myself that it was just a dream.
"I'm here Patrick. I'm not going anywhere."

Rose
I had never been so scared in my life. The way Patrick shook as he thought about the dream worried me to no end. How many times as that happened? What brought it on?
When Jenson had gone on his lunch break, I took the opportunity to sneak into Patrick's room and see him. I found him curled under the covers but he wasn't asleep.
I sighed, tilting my head to the side, "Hey."
"Hey," he didn't come out from under the covers. He was a like a hermit crab waiting to escape its shell. I knelt down beside his bed only just being able to see his face. I placed my hand just outside his opening in hope for him to take it.
"Are you going to hide away forever?" I asked as if talking to a child.
"Maybe, it's been working out for me so far," I felt the softness of his skin as he took my hand, "Sorry for scaring you last night."
I shook my head, "You didn't scare me. You make me worry but you didn't scare me," I said truthfully, "Patrick, how many times has that happened?"
The sheet made a rustling sound as he shrugged, "they use to be every night. Then once a week. Soon they became once a month. Now it's just every so often."
"Patrick that's so not healthy."
"None of it's healthy, Rose. For the first year I wouldn't speak, barely ate. Second year, I wouldn't leave my bed or eat without being forced to. I still can't go in the dining room."
I squeezed his hand as I thought. I read something about soldiers with PSTD and how they would wake up in the night thinking they were back in Vietnam. It said that going back there and reliving what had happened had help the soldiers.
I shot up having an idea.
"Come with me," I ordered.
"I don't think so Rose."
I groaned kneeling down again, "Come on Patrick, please let me help you."
I saw him nod. I took the doona between my fingers and flipped it back. Patrick groaned.
"Just let me get dressed," he moaned.
I nodded retreating to the door.

Patrick
I met Rose at where the stairs parted. She took my hand and I feared what she was up to as she led me to the East Wing. She's taking me to the dining room.
I stopped shaking my head, my heart pounding.
"I can't do this," I took my hand back, running it through my hair.
"Do you trust me?" she asked.
"Yes," I was surprised about how true it was. I trusted her with my life. She held out her hand again, "Then take my hand."
I did.
"Now close your eyes."
I did.
"Follow the sound of my voice."
The feeling was something strange. I walked with my other senses taking over. Smell, hearing, touch. The sound of my heart, the feel of Rose's hand and the smell of...blood. The smell of blood. Oh my God I can't do this.
I pulled back not opening my eyes or letting go of Rose.
"No, I can't."
"You can Patrick, listen to the sound of my voice."
I tried and failed.
"Rose, I –."
"Tell me what you smell. Focus on what's real, not memory."
Focus on what's real. Not memory.
Rose, Rose is real.
"You, I smell you."
"What else?"
I breathed in taking in so many combination of smells.
"Moss, mould, wood."
"What do you hear?"
My Mother's screams filled my ears,
"My mother's screams," I pulled back again.
"The screams aren't real Patrick, we are. There's only you and me. Everything else is a memory."
Focus on what's real. Not memory.
"Just leave him,"
"What?"
"That can be his punishment. To live alone, with no one to love him."
I pulled back again.
"Shh," the feel of her hands running up and down my arm was smoothing.
"Tell me your favourite memory in this room?" she asked.
I sighed, thinking, "Christmas night."
"And what happened?"
"Everyone was together. Nobody fought, nobody got angry. And then fireworks started. And we all curled together by the window and watched them."
"That sounds nice."
Without realizing I opened my eyes to see Rose's beautiful face. I looked around remembering only the Christmas memory. The long table with eight seats around it. The china cabinet with the six cups inside. The floor to ceiling glass windows that let light in. the large chandelier with the sparkling crystals. I was in here. I was in the room I had avoided for five years.
"You did it," I said surprised.
She shook her head, "No you did it; you just needed a guarding hand."
"No, you are so much more than a guarding hand," I took her in my arms hugging her tight, "You will never understand how much you mean to me."
You will never understand how much I love you.