Smiling at Everything

Bloodcurdling screams ran through Zack's apartment, causing the bass player's eyes to shoot open. In his exhausted haze, he realized the screams were coming from his bedroom where Jazz was sleeping. Or he thought she had been sleeping. Those heart wrenching screams couldn't have been coming from Jazz. There was no way she was capable of that noise. It had to be the television.

Oh, wait. He didn't have a television in his room.

A scream of "stop" wrenched through the air mixed with sobs. Zack jumped off the couch and rushed down the hallway. As he got closer to his destination, the screams got louder. He threw the door to his bedroom open and flipped on the light. On the bed, Jazz was sobbing, screaming, and flailing her arms. The comforter had been kicked off the bed at some point during her squirming, now laying on the floor in a small pile. Besides Jazz, there was no one else in the room.

She must have been in the middle of one of the nightmares she told him about. It was much more violent than Zack thought it would be. He expected her to simply wakeup in the middle of the night panting; not wake him up with screams. Whatever happened to her must have been terrifying.

He had a feeling he knew what it was. He just had to get her to admit it happened. Maybe the nightmares would stop, along with the consuming thoughts, if she talked to him.

Zack walked to the bed, slipping onto the edge carefully. He didn't want to get knocked out in Jazz's terror-filled state.

"Jazz, wakeup," Zack demanded over her screams.

Jazz's eyes didn't open, her screams didn't cease. It was like she hadn't heard him at all. Though, she was probably too deep in her dream world to hear him.

Zack climbed further onto the bed, again being careful not to get hit. He nudged Jazz's body while repeating his previous demand. Instead of waking up, one of her flailing hands connected with Zack's jaw, making his head snap to the side.

"Ow," he mumbled, rubbing the abused body part.

She was stronger than he thought.

In a last resort, Zack grabbed Jazz's shoulders, shaking her and yelling for her to wakeup. Her eyes snapped open; her screams stopped. Zack let go of Jazz's shoulders once he was sure she was awake and sat back, allowing her to grow accustomed to her surroundings.

Jazz's eyes darted around the room, terror encompassing her. The nightmare had felt so real, though it was obviously not a memory. All of the events definitely hadn't happened before. There was never a point in time that they were both there at the same time, never a time they double-teamed her. To her knowledge, they didn't even know each other. They didn't teach at the same school, nor the same subject or grade level. They didn't have the same interest, besides sending Jazz through the worst pain of her life. What happened in Jazz's dream would never happen in real life.

Unless they happened to be released from jail at the same time.

Jazz's eyes landed on Zack, who was staring down at her with concern. She had woken him up; she knew she would. He looked tired, his normally well-groomed hair a mess, his eyes holding a slight red tint to them.

"Are you okay?" Zack asked.

Even his voice had a sluggish tone to it.

With difficulty, Jazz forced a smile and nodded. Her voice was lost somewhere in the recesses of her throat. Though she couldn't answer verbally, she had to answer somehow.

Or, rather, she had to lie to him somehow. So he had seen her thrashing, heard whatever she said during her nightmare. She couldn't keep him up longer than necessary. He needed to rest before they got on the bus.

"Don't lie to me," Zack commanded.

She woke up screaming, sobbing. Not to mention the obvious fear in her eyes, which wasn't caused by waking up in a new environment. There was no way she was okay.

"I'm fine. Go back to sleep," Jazz forced her vocal chords to cooperate.

Maybe he would believe her.

"I'm not leaving till you tell me the truth," Zack stated.

Or maybe he wouldn't.

The fake smile on Jazz's face fell. She could feel tears welling up in her eyes as the nightmare replayed in her mind. Couldn't Zack just leave her to cry in peace? He had already seen her cry once. That was one time too many.

Zack could sense Jazz's reluctance to let him in. He didn't understand why. By now she should have known she could let her guard down around him. She didn't need to fake happiness.

"Jazz, its okay to tell me you're not okay. I won't leave; I won't get mad; I'll stay right here till you feel better," Zack said.

Jazz immediately crumpled into sobs.

"Come here," Zack whispered, pulling Jazz into his arms.

His arms wrapped around her waist, one hand rubbing circles in her lower back. Jazz wrapped her arms around Zack's neck, burying her face into his shoulder. Had he been wearing a shirt, her tears would have stained. The fact remained that he wasn't wearing a shirt; Jazz's tears simply trialed down his bare skin.

If she weren't sobbing, Jazz would have definitely taken the opportunity to observe Zack's muscles.

"Sh," Zack cooed, "Its going to be okay."

Jazz's sobs slowly came to a stop, turning into sniffles and whimpers. Zack continued rubbing circles into Jazz's lower back. He had to admit, he was scared for her. She couldn't live her life afraid to sleep or afraid of telling people what happened. That wasn't truly living.

"Are you okay now?" Zack asked.

Jazz shook her head against Zack's shoulder.

"Do you want to talk about it?"

Again, she shook her head. She still wasn't ready for that. It would be awhile till she could spill everything to Zack. He didn't know about her cutting spree in high school yet, the one she still had scars from. Jazz didn't want to have to confess that on top of everything else. But she knew she had to. That went along with the events that happened in the past. It was one of the many side effects of what happened to her.

Zack sighed, "You know I'm here when you're ready, right?"

Jazz nodded.

"And it'll help to talk about it."

She shrugged. It could help. There was a possibility that she wouldn't have nightmares anymore, that half of the things she did to cope wouldn't be necessary anymore, if she talked to him. But there was a possibility it would ruin her life. He could hate her after she told him; he could tell the rest of the band regardless of how she felt about it.

She didn't know if she was willing to take that chance.

Zack looked at the clock on his bedside table. In neon numbers, it blared "1:00AM." He and Jazz needed more rest if the photo shoot was going to be a success.

Well, maybe Jazz didn't but he did.

"Jazz, are you okay enough for me to go back to the living room?" Zack asked.

That wasn't the way he wanted to word it; it sounded rude. But he couldn't think of a nicer way to ask if he could go back to sleep.

"Don't leave," Jazz mumbled against his skin.

"Do you want me to stay up with you?"

Jazz pulled away from Zack's shoulder, looking up at him. Her cheeks and bridge of her nose were pink, as was the tip of her nose and the area around her eyes. Tears had stained her cheeks with makeup she must have forgotten to take off before crashing. The whites of her eyes were red. Even with the aftereffects of a severe crying session, Jazz's appearance made him swoon.

Was there ever a moment in time when she didn't look attractive?

"You don't have to stay up, just don't leave. I don't want them to come back," Jazz said.

She was always paranoid after nightmares.

Zack smiled at Jazz, "Okay, I'll stay here."

He was sure "them" didn't refer to the nightmares. He didn't know who they were but he was going to kill them if he ever found out. They had abused Jazz in some way, he was sure of that, to the point that it ruined her mental state. Whether it was physical, emotional, or sexual, he didn't know.

But he was pretty sure it was sexual.