his power, knowing that he’ll always have this over me. And I hate it.
I wake on a loud shout, my skin covered in the panic of my nightmare. The fiery, cold touch of sweat that clings to my skin in remembrance.
His eyes waver in front of my face and I shake my head, working to rid him from my life even in the harsh reality of consciousness. My room is dark, the ghosts of my past threatening me from every shadowed corner. Crawling across my bed in haste, my lamp crashes to the ground in my rush to turn it on. Discarding it, I jump from my bed, tripping on my way in search of the light switch. Swallowing against my want to be sick, my eyes race around my room for the demons I know won’t be there.
No. That would be too easy. I could fight then. Call the police. No, my monsters like to stay firmly trapped in my skull. Haunting me in sleep, in consciousness. They attack from all angles. Night or day. I can’t escape them. Not the way I would give my life to.
Convinced I’m alone in the physical space of my room, I focus on my breathing, settling the consistent sobs echoing around me, mocking my weakness. Scratching at my skin, I will the pain to stop. I can still feel his weight on top of me, his body inside mine. I dry retch, the tears that sting my skin like fire, coming on full force.
Rushing to my bathroom, I empty the limited contents of my stomach, heaving heavily with my need to expel him from my body. My body shakes with the incessant cries possessing me. I move to the shower, turning the faucet on as hot as I can manage without causing third-degree burns. I let the scalding water rush over me, burning away his touch. I scrub at my body, scouring away a layer of skin I could’ve sworn he’d touched, it was real enough.
It’s not enough. Not even close.
Wet, naked and my shower still running, I stumble toward the vanity, slipping as I go. I pull at the drawers roughly, in search of the only thing I know will bring me the seconds of reprieve I crave so badly.
The small gray blade shines in the dim light. Touching my thumb pad to the edge, I feel the sharp bite of its power. Dropping onto the toilet, the blade hits my upper thigh before my eyes do, and finally, after being choked with agony, I find my power. I take away the pain he caused by creating my own.
My warm, wet skin splits open with ease. The red pool of my blood falling along my leg, letting me take my first full breath since falling asleep last night.
Throwing two Tylenol down my throat, I swallow them with the warm bitterness of my coffee. My leg stings as I move around the kitchen, and I work to cover the pain without limping. It’s still dark out and Codi won’t be up for a few more hours, but I don’t need her asking any questions. It’s easier this way.
She knows about the nightmares, but not how I overcome them. She wouldn’t understand and I couldn’t stomach her judgment or pity. All that’s important is that I’ve pushed my nightmare down, at least for today. That knowledge courses relief through my body. The soft, pulsating pain I caused, letting me feel in control.
Adding another sugar to my coffee, I tidy the kitchen, wiping at the counter for likely the fourth time. I like cleanliness. I crave order. It helps with the Rubik’s Cube inside my head.
Satisfied the kitchen is as sterile as I can achieve, I move toward the living area. I’ve made it two steps when a soft moan filters out from the direction of Codi’s room.
Motherfucker.
The rough rumble of Parker’s voice is loud enough that I’m now an unwilling audience to all the things he wants to do to my sister.
I exaggerate a gag. They don’t quit. Ever. Morning, noon, and night. They’re at it. I’m exhausted and I’m not even involved. Not actively anyway. But, Jesus, the things I’ve heard...
Making myself scarce, I move back toward my bedroom cursing the need to reenter the space only minutes ago I was scurrying to escape. Settled onto my bed, I sip my coffee in silence, focusing on the heavy throb of pain gifted by the cut along my thigh.