Warning Reminder: This story will allude to and have scenes of rape and other forms of abuse.
No one comes to check on me. Not since Orderly Hale left and my green, green savior sauntered away. I had chased after him. But only as far as my prison's doorframe. I couldn't muster the energy to overcome my hesitation as he danced down the hallway, knocking on doors as he passed, waving at peeking eyes with that never-ending loopy smile. I would have called out for him, but I didn't even know his name.
"Come back," I say out loud or it could have been in my head. I'm not sure of much these days.
Emmett would have gone after him. He'd have become his best friend. Especially after knowing how he saved me from…whatever that situation with Orderly Hale was. I hate to think about it. What could have happened. What was happening. My skin is still crawling with how his lips felt against mine. There's a tiny spark of anger amongst all the numbness. I'm angry that I couldn't stop him. That I didn't stop him.
The setting sun casts shadows on the wall as the wind beats against the window. It's a terrifying new home, but I guess I'll just have to make do. Emmett would be so proud of my resilience, but not of my "making do" which is pushing back the mattress and curling into a little ball. It's cold, and the blanket provided does nothing to curb the cutting air.
As the room grows darker, the surrounding noise grows quieter, and though I do my best to fight it, I fall asleep. I never win in. Because the nightmares are always there. Waiting. Ready to pounce. Full of water and helpless hands and so much blue that the tiny bit of red dripping down skin glares even from where I stand.
He's yelling. That never changes. "Bella! Help me, Bella!"
But this time, when he goes under, he doesn't come back up. Some nights he pulls himself from the water. Some nights I never see him rise from the slowly reddening pool. Just bubbles. Rising to the bloody surface. Until finally glass. Red glass. So smooth as if there aren't hidden secrets drowning beneath it's surface.
I jerk from the bed, my throat raw with the scream dying from my lips, and for a moment, that's why I think I was torn from the relentless nightmares. But when my heart has calmed down and my breathing no longer beats in my ears so that's all I can hear, that's when it's quiet enough that the faintest of sounds makes itself known.
A squeaking bed frame. Muffled crying. Low, low groans. And the softest of whispers coming through the wall. "Let me help. I'm here to save you."