The nightmares have been invading my sleep for a while now, despite my last tour being short and uneventful I am still plagued by events of that day. When I shut my eyes I can see it so clearly, I can feels the grains of sand in my hair, I can smell the sweat from the people on the truck, I can still hear the excruciating scream he cried she the bullets made light work in making him into a type of Swiss cheese. The sound of the bullet being released from the pistol still hammers in my ears, making them ring when I wake. I'm scared to close my eyes. I cannot bring myself to tell him, it would break his heart to see what the sands have done to me, so I sob quietly when I awake I don't want to remind him of the pain he went through. It's been so long, we have come so far since that day, but why won't Afghan leave me be, it laid Smurf to rest. Why not me?
I wasn't expecting to awake to find a different ceiling above me, this one was solid it didn't flap around in the warm winds of Afghan. Yet another nightmare wriggled into my short slumber awaking me with a wet back from sweat, these nightmares are determined to keep me awake I swear, I glance at the clock, 3:30am, being careful not to wake him I go downstairs. The hallway floor in our Bath house is taters, despite there being a rare layer of snow on the ground I walk around wearing only a sun top and shorts. I sit down on the sofa and open my laptop determined to finish the medical reports on my section before our deployment in 2 months, these were just the first of many to come. The lights from the tree twinkled like fairies show why don't they remind me of 'em. With 4 reports finished, I decide to shut my eyes, next thing I know the sun is beating upon my back. The pistol is in my hands once more.
This time everything is twisted, the bossmans sidearm is in my hands as usual I look down the barrel ready to fire the shame shot as that day, then I lose focus and see the eyes staring back at me. There the same eyes that watch me sleep, the ones that make me cry with laughter, there Charles' eyes. "It's your fault he's dead" his voice is cold and slimy "you didn't save him Dawes, Smurf is dead because of you." He was blaming me for Smurf's death, but he wasn't dead I had just treated him. That's when I turned around he was lying in his own blood, dead. I ran over to him screaming his name "Smurf, wake up you cockwomble! Don't you dare leave me, I've saved you once before and I'll do it again." I shook him in an attempt to get a response, but when my hands touched his skin I jumped, he was ice cold. My body gave up defeated screaming for Charles to shoot me, in this dream everyone dies.
I pretend not to wake when the sound of her sobbing beside me rips me from my sleep, I know what is wrong. I have to fight the urge to hold her and make the tears go away, to banish the nightmares from her mind, but I can't, she'll tell me when she's ready, no one can force her into talking about it. That day changed us all, I know that is what she's dreaming about from the rare times she has awoke screaming my name, the beads of sweat trickling down her face blending into her tears, I will always remember her face as she realises that she is safe, but Smurf is gone. It's heartbreaking. We try to continue as normal, but I simply cannot ignore her sobs any longer, she won't become empty like many before her, I won't let her become the ghost of former days.
This time it was different, I was startled by her screaming my immediate reaction was to check the space beside me. Empty. My nervous system went into overdrive "Mol's! Mol's where are you?" I knew she was having another nightmare so I shouted across the house trying to snap her out of it; she often comes downstairs when she can't sleep. That's when I saw the light from her laptop on the coffee table, I raced to her where she was laying curled up on the sofa in a cold sweat screaming at the top of her lungs "Please, just get it over with, just do it!" Her voice reflected her distressed mood. Knowing that my voice wasn't going to pull her from this one I started to shake her body calling her name. Her eyes snapped open; she looked so lost for a brief moment before the crying took over, I pulled her into me not bearing her to be away from me for another second. I stroked her hair to calm her whilst she mumbled something that resembled "don't leave me, please don't leave me." I couldn't bear to see her like this, so lost, so broken. At long last a peaceful sleep took over the sound of distraught cries were replaced by the soft sound of her light snoring that I love so much; knowing that she would be more comfortable upstairs and not wanting to disturb her I carried her up to our room. It tears me apart see her like this, that would be the last nightmare Molly Dawes would be having, I'll make sure of it.
Authors note: I'm aware that story wasn't the best of the ones on here, but I had to write it. So let me know what you liked, what you didn't like, and how I could improve, or perhaps your ideas as to how it could develop. I'm open to all suggestions.
I don't own the Our Girl characters or the ever so hot Ben Aldridge! All the rights belong to the BBC
Hope you enjoyed it!
Have a good day!