The Dark Side of the Moon

Chapter 30-True Love Prevails

"Maria."

I sat up with a start. My heart was pounding wildly in my chest, sending a pulsing rush of blood through my veins. I thrust my hands out at the dark silhouette that was taking shape as my eyes adjusted to the night. I had screamed.

Strong hands grasped my shoulders. My body trembled with fear. "Maria, it is me. Just a dream. It didn't mean to startle you."

Robin. I was sat up against the headboard of our bed. My eyes wide with fear. I took deep breaths as my heart began to slow. The ringing in my ears fading away. I had dreamt of the horrors that had come to pass not long ago. Catcher's hands against my throat. His menacing grin when he slammed me into the wardrobe. Blood. Lot's of blood. And the glint of a dagger before it was thrusted with precise intent to bring death.

"I'm sorry I woke you. I wanted to let you know I have returned. And...well, it's just been a long time since you slept in my-our bed..." Robin continued, trailing off. He eyed me suspiciously. I sensed he wanted to inquire of my dream but wasn't sure he should for how frightened I appeared. It was quite obvious with the way in which I reacted that I have experienced the struggle for life somehow before. And he seemed to wonder when.

He was sat at the edge of the bed leaning forward toward me. I threw my arms around him. And exhaled a shuddering breath.

"Thank you." He said.

"For what?"

"For coming back to me. I was afraid I had lost you after...well after William."

"Robin, forgive me. I was in a dark place. I was hurting so badly, I hadn't realised I was hurting you." I leaned in closer and kissed him. He melted into me. Hungry for my touch. One that had been so familiar to him and then taken away. It was true, it had been the entirety of a month that I had turned my back to him and stayed hidden in my own bedchambers after the loss of our son.

Robin pulled back and picked at a loose thread on the hem of his jacket. Then he shrugged out of it and tossed it to the floor seemingly distraught. "What is it? Is Catcher...did he..?"

"He is still unconscious. And we have found nothing of an attack. It's all quite peculiar..."

"Do you think he'll live?"

"I really can't say. Have you visited him? Caudalie says he looks much like I had when I had suffered the gunshot wound. She seemed comforted by that. Since I had survived."

"I haven't visited him, no. I hadn't wanted to be a bother."

In truth, I was afraid to see him. I thought back to earlier today when I had left him dying in the snow. And how when I ran I decided then to show him mercy. I couldn't explain the way I felt. Indifferent. Yes, I felt indifferent. I don't know what compelled me to show mercy to my enemy but I had. Perhaps that is just who I am. Even if there is not good to be found in a person, I still believe there is hope. I still believe that anyone can change.

Forgiveness. Do I forgive him? I can't say for certain. But I can say that if he should live, I will be terrified.

Each night thereafter during that week, I had fitful dreams. I lived in fear. I kept having a recurring dream that felt so real I'd wake up and see him looming over me with that wicked sneer. But the image was opaque and would mist away almost as soon as I saw it. In my dream he would come for me as I slept. I'd wake by a hand clasping over my mouth and he'd snatch me from my bed. And when I'd wake from the dream that's when I'd see a ghost of him leaning over me, watching me as I slept.