FIGHT

Chapter 7

My legs move fast, carrying my body across the carpet. I'm moving backwards, but I can't turn around to watch where I'm going. Not with him lurking over me. I want to scream at him. I want to know why he hurts us, why he's so mean.

He's moving faster now, gaining ground on me. I push my legs as fast as they will go, but I'm stopped by something big and hard. My back pushes against the footboard of my bed, trying to will it to move. I have no where else to go. He has me cornered.

"Stop!" I yell, but he just keeps coming.

"Daddy, please! Stop!"

I watch as his thick arm raises, his fist clenched up to punch rather than slap. My eyes shut tightly and I hum the song my mother would sing to me when I was a baby.

When I open my eyes, there's a figure standing over me, but it's not my dad. He's shaking me, and I can see his lips moving. He's talking to me. But I can't hear anything over the sound of screaming.

Finally, my brain registers the change.

The screaming stops and I can hear Holden whispering to me, "Wake up, T. It's only a nightmare."

Instinctively, I wipe away the tears. I feel Holden pull back and I wrap my hand in his shirt, stopping him. I don't want him to leave.

"It's okay, Tatum. I'm only turning on the light."

My fist unravels from his t-shirt, allowing him to lean over and turn on the lamp. The lamp doesn't brighten the whole room, but I can see him now. His curls flop lightly against his forehead; his muscles prominent with every move he makes.

I push my blankets back, pulling myself to sit up in bed. Holden walks back over to me, sitting on the edge of the bed as if he's unsure if that's okay. The room is silent as we stare at one another.

I glance at the clock perched on my nightstand. 3:42 in the morning.

"Guess it's a good thing we agreed to not get up at five..." My voice is quiet; I'm a little hoarse from crying. And screaming, I suppose.

Holden chuckles, "Guess so."

The silence falls back over us and my bed squeaks as Holden moves himself fully on it. I lean back against my headboard, watching him adjust to get comfortable.

It's only us, so he doesn't need to whisper, but he does anyway. Somehow, it feels more private that way.

"Do you want to talk about it?"

"Not really."

He nods, "Well...Do you want some water or something?"

"Yes, please."

Holden stands up, giving me a small smile as he leaves my room. I'm glad he didn't make me talk about it. The nightmares come and go; they're mostly just memories from when I was younger. I can hear cabinets opening and closing, and soon enough, the sink is turned on. After it's turned off, his heavy footsteps pad across the living room before they stop right outside my door. He pauses, but eventually pushes through. Holden hands me the cup and I drink the entire thing in less than thirty-seconds.

"Do you want me to get you anymore?"

I shake my head; my throat feels much better now. His feet shuffle backwards, an unsure expression on his face, "Good night, T."

"Wait."

Holden stops with his hand on the door knob, turning back to me with a question written on his face.