He sat and watched her, continuing to stroke her hair as she slept. The lines around her eyes did not ease, her mouth stayed set as she fought to escape into the refugee of sleep. The corners of her mouth quirked down a few times, and them the tremors began again. She shook in his arms, body fighting against the terrors in her mind. She stiffened in his arms, her mind forcing the body out of sleep in an attempt to preserve itself. Her eyes opened, unseeing for a moment, mind still caught up in the horrors of the past.
Her eyes cleared quickly, taking in her position and the relative safety of her location. He expected her to shake his arms off, to run away from his hold, and was surprised when she sagged against his chest, burying her head. She sighed, then her shoulders began to shake.
"Ah…" her breath hissed, and he could barely make out the words. "Those bastards. Those damned bastards."
"What did they do?" he asked.
"They tried so hard to break me. I didn't let them, but it was hard, so hard for so long. I may not be broken, but I think I'm cracked."
He shushed her gently. "What did they do?"
"Everything. They did everything." She looked up at him, eyes filled with pain. "I can't live through it again. I can't."
"Would sharing make it better?"
She shook her head. "There are no words."
"Then don't use words. Let me share the next dream."
She buried her head again. "I can't do that."
"Don't I deserve it?"
"No one deserves my memories. Some times I even think I don't deserve them."
"I'm asking to know. I need to know."
She looked up, eyes bleary. "Why?"
"Because I do. You keep everything about you a mystery."
"This isn't a mystery. It's just pain."
"Let me share it. Just once."
She sagged against his chest, too tired to argue. "Fine." She snaked her fingers between his. "I warned you," she whispered as she fell asleep again.
He rested his chin on her head and joined her.
*******************************************************************************
She was in a room, a cold white room, stripped naked. Chains dangled from the ceiling in the middle of the expanse of whiteness, their black links sinister. Four men wrestled her to them, manacling her arms and legs, then hoisting her into the air so her weight dangled from the arms held behind her back. Her legs were splayed, one drawn to either side, chains wrapped around white hooks on the white wall so she was nearly doing the splits in midair. It would hurt more if she wasn't so limber.
They strung her up, then left, faceless technicians doing a job, nothing more. She couldn't make them meet her eyes, couldn't see if there was malice in them or if they were just going about their daily tasks to get paid. She wasn't sure which she preferred, even after all these months: personal or impersonal torture. She could relate to both so well.
She dangled there, suspended in light pain, waiting. She could guess well enough what was going to come next, and tried to not dwell on it. She rested her chin on her chest and looked at the small grains of dirt that marred the whiteness of the floor. She was getting so well-practiced at meditating on the mundane to ignore the terror that gibbered in the back of her mind.
She began to shiver a little, the motions swaying her a bit, the movement paining her shoulders a little more. Hours passed, or minutes, she had no real way to tell. She heard the door behind her open, the soft footfalls of a man creeping up behind her.
Hands reached up and grabbed her, bruising her. Soft breath tickled her ear as he whispered his plans for her. She ignored him as best she could, closing her eyes as he began.
The worst was when he hung on her, his weight added to hers tearing the muscles in her shoulders, slowly at first, but then, with a wet tearing sound, she dropped a few inches as her left shoulder gave way. It was followed seconds later by her right, but the slack in her chains now let her turn and bite her attacker.
She could hardly harm him, not suspended as she was, but she surprised him, intent as he was on taking his pleasure from her. He noted that her arms had torn, and bounced on her, the sounds of her screams as the flesh began to tear even more spurring his ecstasy…
********************************************************************************
And they awoke, both of them shaking.
"I… I didn't know." His voice was hoarse with the memory of pain.
"It isn't something I care to remember," she whispered, "and it's not something I can talk about."
"I am so sorry," he said.
"They're just memories. Why am I so scared of memories?" She turned her head to look at the floor, ashamed of her pain.
He held her chin and slowly turned her head, making her meet his eyes. "Those are horrible memories. There is no shame in not wanting to relive them."
"I wish I could stop. I wish I could get them out of my head, out of my brain. I'm so scared that I'm going to wake up screaming and not be able to stop." She buried her head in his chest again.
"I wish I could help," he said, pulling her close.
"Hold me," she whispered. "Don't let me go."
"I won't."
She looked up at him, eyes bright. She leaned up and kissed him, a soft pressing of lips on lips.
He pulled back and her face fell. "I'm sorry," she said and turned her head away.
"No!" he started. "I mean, why? I… earlier…" He fumbled for words.
She shrugged. "I wanted to remember what it felt like, for it to be love. I think I've forgotten. Just… never mind, I guess."
In answer he leaned over and kissed her forehead.
