Twisted Faith

12

Chapter Twelve| Tyla

Lately, I haven't been dreaming of him now, though, but something was different in tonight's nightmare. But unlike everyone else I know, when I wake, I remember that my ordeal was both real and worse than the fragmented reenactment my brain offers. Instead of relief of waking, I get the trauma made fresh and raw. I get to see my father's face screaming at me to run as he pulled a small eight-inch blade from his faded jeans. Oh, how unfortunate that a nine-year-old girl had to live through this torture when he gets drunk. As if this was some type of game to him.

My body filled up with fear as if I was that nine-year-old girl again. Wrapping herself in the closet in hopes he won't find me. This game was not a game at all because if he did see me, the cuts on my arms explained itself. The trembling sensation of knowing that if he finds me, it will be over or the thought of dying before I hit the tender age of eighteen.

I wake up faster than a cat in ice-water, every sense urging me to claw my way to stand. Cristian held on to me as I tried to slow my breathing. I didn't realize he was here until I turned towards him. Maybe it was me, but I could've sworn there was a look of worry in his eyes before it went away. My body felt sticky from the sweat since I was having a nightmare.

"Are you okay?" He asked, now in a sitting position. His eyes glanced over me.

I shook my head, "Yeah. Yeah, I'm fine."

"How often does this happen to you?" He questioned as his eyes followed me to the bathroom. I ignored him while entering the bathroom before washing my face.

It's been a long time since having one of those nightmares about him again. I thought I was free from it. What is happening to me? Why are they coming back now? Something had to be the trigger, but I didn't know what it was. Maybe because of my brother calling me and deep down I wanted to know...why? Should I call him? My hands gripped the sink tighter.

I was so wrapped up in my thoughts to notice Cristian at the entrance of the bathroom door. I can feel him staring at me, wondering if I was going to tell him or not. But I wasn't. This was my problem to handle, and I'm going to keep managing it until it stops once more.

"Are you going to talk about it?" He asked as he folded his arms. They flex unintentionally while his body leaned against the frame of the door.

I shook my head, "I am going to get some water."

Sliding past him, I headed out the bedroom door into the hallway. My head is held low as I walked down the dark hallway to the stairs. My cheeks felt wet, and as my hand touched my face, I realize it was tears. I was crying. My hand quickly found my mouth and covered it. Why now?! My body dropped to the floor; luckily, I was not on the stairs when I did. I couldn't help but cry my eyes out.

"Are you okay?" Gisella appeared from the dark hallway, holding a small dog within her arms.

"Yeah, I am fine." I croaked out, trying to cover up that I was crying, but it didn't help.

She flicked on the light, which blinded me a bit for her to see my tear struck face, "Why are you crying?"

"It's nothing." I told her, "It's nothing at all."

"Do you want to go back into my room," She suggested. It was better than going back to his room. I didn't have a choice, nor did I want to stay here any longer. I nodded my head since that was the only thing I can do since I didn't trust my voice, "Come on."

She placed the dog down as she helped me up from the floor and headed in the direction towards her bedroom. She kicked the door open with her right leg and led me into the room. This gave me time to examine my surroundings. Her room was like a wonderland for comic driven recluses. The walls were a deep red that pulsed in the light sprinkled with various posters, mostly of strange Japanese cartoon shows.