“Baby, I’ve said it before, I’ll say it again. It’s over and you keep dreamin’ this shit so you need to see somebody.”
“I’ll call someone.”
“Yeah? When?” he shot back. “We been back here two weeks and you haven’t called anyone.”
“It’s been a little busy and the kids come up today. Not to mention, soon, I’m moving so why start now when I’ll have to find someone in Phoenix?”
“So you won’t wake up in a cold sweat and leap over me, runnin’ to God knows where to do whacked shit that freaks me way the f**k out.”
He had a point.
“I haven’t had a dream in days. Maybe they’re waning,” I suggested.
“He tied you down. He took you repeatedly,” Creed returned. “He violated you in ways you didn’t want. He controlled you. Sylvie, I am no psychologist and you got a heart of gold. You don’t know that girl, you weren’t there, it was nearly two decades ago and she is very dead but I still know you feel for her but this isn’t about her. This is about you. This is about you learning I watched that happen to her and then I learned that pretty much the same thing happened to you for six f**kin’ years. You givin’ me that shit and remembering it happened to you, both are f**kin’ with your head. I do not have the tools to sort that. You have got to find the tools to sort that. People in counseling move all the time. Psychologists know the drill. They start therapy and they transfer you to a new doctor but you gotta start therapy, Sylvie. You gotta work this shit out. For you. For me. For the family we’re making. For Charlene. For Adam. For everybody.”
Fuck it all, I hated it when he was right and it happened a lot.
So I did the only thing I could do.
I snapped my, “Okay.”
“That okay is an okay as in, you call to-fuckin’-day. I’m standin’ over you, Sylvie. Clock strikes nine in the morning, you’re on the goddamned phone finding a therapist you think you can work with.”
“Fine,” I bit out.
“Don’t think I’m joking.”
I didn’t think that. His tone told me he absolutely was not.
“I said fine,” I clipped.
“Jesus, this shit makes me wonder if I should have just let you think I left you.”
My blood turned cold.
“Don’t say that.”
“It’s haunting you.”
“Don’t say that.”
“It’s bringing it all back. You had it under control. Now it’s in your face.”
“Don’t say that!” I shouted, jerked away, breaking free from his arms. Jumping to the side of the bed only to lean forward and point at him. “If you didn’t tell me, I’d never have let you back in.”
“Come back to bed, Sylvie.”
I swung my arm out. “You didn’t tell me, we wouldn’t have this.”
He leaned toward me, his tone cautious, and he ordered gently, “Baby, come back to bed.
I ignored him and carried on, this time my voice hoarse, beginning to grate, sounding like it would break, “You didn’t tell me, I wouldn’t have you.”
“Sylvie, come back to me.”
My voice was abrasive when I declared, “I’ll take nightmares every night for the rest of my f**king life if it comes with waking up to you.”
He reached out a hand, caught mine but I leaned back, putting my weight into tearing free.