Rebel

Chapter Title: Flashbacks
Pairings: N/A for now.
Warnings: Violence; mental disorders; minor language; rape

Soft, smooth flesh.

Cinnamon.

Heat. Sweat.

Pain. Biting. Splitting. Burning. Screaming.

Licking, kissing.

Building

A scream, not mine. Deep, throaty.

Bliss, relief.

Release.

Hate. Shame. Fear

I woke up screaming, body spasming and thrashing, hands scrabbling for a hold on something, anything, tears clogging up my throat, sobbing. I was coughing.

I couldn't think, couldn't focus. It hurt. Oh god, it hurt so much.

I forced myself to calm down, but it took work. When I did, I realized Aya was banging on my door, shouting.

I sat up, and the sheets clung to me, squelching.

I looked down in surprise. The entire bed was absolutely soaked in sweat.

I climbed out, peeling the sheets off of my skin, and put on a robe. I opened my door to an extremely concerned Ayame.

"Nightmare?" He asked softly, tucking the wet locks that clung to my face behind my ears.

I nodded, fighting not to break down crying. I was still emotionally raw from the nightmare. "They're getting worse, Aya," I mumbled, looking down at my feet.

He embraced me, and I breathed in the vannilla aroma that was all Ayame, clinging to him for sanity, for comfort. He made me feel safe, and I loved him for it. "They aren't real, Miku," he whispered soothingly.

"I know, I know. But still they somehow manage to scare the shit out of me," I mumbled, upset at myself for being so vulnerable. For being so weak.

"It'll be okay," he assured me, hugging me closer.

"It was him again, Aya."

"Who?"

"Akito. His voice." I whispered, staring at the fabric of his pajamas.

"It doesn't mean anything. They're just dreams."

"Than why do they feel so real?" I sobbed, finally breaking, not able to hold them in anymore.

Ayame held me tighter, and whispered, "I'm sorry." What else could he say?