From the corner of my eye, I saw a dark figure move past me. Turning, I saw Fang getting up from the chair that he had been sitting in and was leaving the room. I was starting to get late, so he was most likely headed to his room here at my mom's house, but I asked anyway.
"Fang, where're you going?" I asked said boy, even though I knew full well that I would receive a silent response. Fang looked my way, showing that he had heard me, before turning around again and leaving the room without a word.
"Has he said a word yet?" Iggy, who was sitting next to me on the couch, asked, worry etched into his face. He knew the answer to this question just as well as I had known what Fang's reply would be.
"No, save for when he's asleep," I told him.
"That hardly counts as talking! He's screaming in terror!" Iggy said harshly before settling down a little bit. "Sorry, I snapped a little right there. It's just that, it's been three months since he got back, and he still hasn't said anything to anyone. I'm worried. He's been having those nightmares since a week after getting back. Thanks for waking him up every night, by the way. It kills me to have to hear him like that," he told me.
"We're all worried, Ig," I said simply.
I stood up from the couch to get ready for bed and turned to Iggy. "It's getting late, Ig. We should head to bed as well," I told him. He nodded and put down the book that he had been holding. He had told me once before that holding books open in front of him, even if he couldn't see them, made him feel a bit more normal. Who was I to tell him not to?
"I still can't get it out of my head, when he got back," he said quietly. Even Ig, who hadn't been able to see Fang that night, had been able to feel the injuries that Fang had; none of us would be able to get that out of our memories.
Four months ago, the school had come back and taken Fang. The rest of the flock and I had finally been able to break into the school a week later, but we only learned that Fang had disappeared. Two weeks after that, Fang showed up on the doorstep, beaten, bruised, and exhausted. He didn't say where he had been and passed out almost right after I opened the door. He spent most of the first week that he was back in bed. He didn't eat. He didn't speak. He just slept and recovered. Then, one day, we suddenly saw him walk into the living room. He started eating. He didn't speak. It was around then that the nightmares started. He would scream while he slept, and at first we thought that the school had come back for him again. Every night, I would go into his room as soon as I noticed that the screaming had started to wake him up. Tonight, it would only be a matter of time before this happened again.
"Goodnight, Iggy," I said once we had come to my room.
"Goodnight, Max," he replied, continuing down the hall to his own room.
I threw on a nightgown and flung myself into bed and into dreamland. At about three in the morning I jolted awake at the sound of a harsh scream that came from the next room. Fang.
I quickly ran out of my room and into Fang's to find him thrashing around in his sleep. It made my heart lurch every time I heard him scream, time hadn't dulled that. The first night that this had happened, I almost cried when I had to come wake him. I held it in for the sake of the kids, and for Fang, but I ended breaking down when I was alone with Iggy.
I made my way over to his bed, still hearing the moans and screams of terror, and noticed the tears falling down his face. As I made my way over, I could have sworn that I had heard him moan out the word 'mom'. I reached out to shake Fang's shoulder and pull him out of his horrors, but hesitated for a brief moment. Coming back to my senses, I reached out again and shook Fang's shoulder.
"Fang," I called, "Fang, wake up," I said as he jack hammered out of the bed. He was panting hard, but, after a few long moments, his breathing started to even out. We stayed there, without moving, except Fang wiping the tears from his eyes. For what felt like forever; the only sound was our breathing, Fang's being a bit louder than my own. Finally, I turned to head back to my room. I took a step, then stopped and turned to face him again.
"Fang, I'm sorry," I started, feeling that I needed to tell him this. "I just, … there are times that, when I come in here to wake you up, I start wondering if I should let you stay asleep, if I should leave you in your nightmares. I'm so sorry for even thinking that. It's just that, when you have these nightmares, when you're screaming, I can hear your voice again," I told him, my head hanging low as I felt embarrassed and a bit ashamed of myself. After a moment, I turned again to leave, but stopped when I heard something break the silence.
"Max," came a low, husky, cracked voice from behind me, where the only person that was there was Fang.