Shattered

Chapter 38

-surprise-

A very beautiful song, and one I find myself attached to.

Sleep had become a figurative escape for me, but now it had turned into a nightmare almost as horrible as the one I've been living in.

For the fifth night in a row, I woke up screaming, transferring from one prison to another. It wasn't always what happened in the dreams that left me terrorized, it was the feeling that lingered when I opened my eyes. On a bad night, I could wake up at least twice at different hours from the nightmares.

My cheeks were already wet, as were parts of my hairline, meaning I started crying before I was even awake. Assuring myself that it was only a dream did no good for me, since the fear I felt now essentially matched the fear brought on from my dream. Funny how I've been here nearly a month and a half, but now started having nightmares. The stress it put on my body left me drained and weak throughout the days, a feeling I despised, but was helpless against.

Sniffling, I wiped at the tears running down my cheeks, however, they were replaced in a matter of seconds. The tears were out of my control, no matter how much I wished for them to stop, they continued. Pulling my legs up, I knotted my hands in my hair and dropped my head onto my knees. Deep breath in, deep breath out. Like the past few mornings, I tried to regain control of my emotions in hopes of preventing a panic attack, or worse, a meltdown.

"More nightmares?" Chandler asked from beside me, having entered the room sometime during my screaming. He had learned that when I was in a state like this, the worst thing he could do was touch me, unless he wanted to trigger the panic attack I was suppressing. Silently, I nodded my head, hearing him crouch at the side of the bed.

"What's causing them?" This question varied from his usual probing on what my dream was about, but was ignorant, nonetheless. Think about when they started and then you'd have your answer. "You," I mumbled, not filtering myself in spite of the possible repercussions, although he would have to be beyond cruel to punish me for something I couldn't control. In a way, this felt like a punishment I gave myself for submitting to him the day after he so mercilessly tortured me, even if I didn't mean for it to end with us so close together.

That was the farthest he had gone with "punishing" me, and the worst part is that I know he was still holding back. Had he let Lucas get to his head? The day after it happened, my reaction was so minor because I was in shock, still processing the overwhelming events. The first night of dreadful dreams served as proof that I did, in fact, feel the effects of the trauma. Of all the trauma I had suffered from him.

If this is my life, which I can hardly handle already, do I want to know about what truly happened to Vera? Could I stomach the reality of what she suffered from if what Stella said was true; that she went through much worse than me? Another question I didn't really want the answer to.

When Chandler was silent, I knew he couldn't deny what I said. He knew this was his fault. If I have to deal with the consequences, then so does he. Shifting my head, I glanced at him, briefly meeting his eyes as I sniffled. His lips were pressed together, and his eyes looked over me observantly, in concern.

"Don't look so worried, if you truly were you would've let me go by now," I claimed flatly, barely containing a scoff. The audacity of this man. "Jess, I never wanted to make you suffer—"

"You are making me suffer, and you know that." I made sure to look him straight in the eyes as I spoke, not backing down. We are two full-grown adults, although who knows how fucking old he is, so Chandler can deal with a woman who talks back to him.