Chapter Thirty-Seven
Dean
I spent the rest of the weekend taking care of Sam. The next few weeks went smoothly, and Annabelle seemed to be in higher spirits. March slipped away to April. It started warming up outside and Annabelle and Dylan started helping out farmers around town to bring in some money. Annabelle enjoyed being able to spend the time with him. Dylan was a good kid, and he was often able to lift Annabelle's spirits if she was down so I didn't mind it.
On the night of the nineteenth, Annabelle's nightmares started getting worse. It was almost three in the morning and she started screaming bloody murder. I ran into her room with my gun drawn and found her still asleep and screaming. I put the gun down on her dresser and shook her awake. Annabelle looked shell-shocked when she woke up. She looked over her hands and her shirt as if she was checking to make sure nothing was on them before looking at me.
"Was I screaming?" Her voice was barely a whisper, and I could see her blinking back tears.
"Yeah, what was it?" I asked.
"Another nightmare. They're getting worse," Annabelle muttered.
"Do you want to talk about it?" I asked. She shook her head. "Do you think you can get back to sleep?"
"I don't know. I can try." Annabelle shrugged and lay back down. She buried herself in the blankets so only her head stuck out. I got up to leave and headed for the door.
"Wait . . ." Annabelle's soft voice came when I was halfway to the door. She got up. "I don't think I can sleep. Do you know any good movies?"
"Try the Lord of the Rings trilogy," I said.
"All right. Thanks. Night," Annabelle said. She walked blindly downstairs, and I heard her turn the TV on. I went back to bed knowing she wouldn't talk until she was ready.