Bedtime

It has been three days since I've last talked to Blake, he's always out doing something and when he's home he goes to his room and doesn't come out.
Every once in awhile I'll hear him talking to himself, he sounds angry and sad.
Which in turn makes me sad.

I sit curled up on the couch, a fuzzy blanket wrapped me. Bright images form the TV bouncing off the walls of the dark room.
It's late, my parents are asleep as is Blake, but sleep refuses to take me. So here I am, watching an infomercial for some kind of magic blender.
For some odd reason I like it. Maybe because all the people seem so happy or because the food just looks so good.

I sigh, knowing I must at least try to going to sleep again. I flip off the TV, making the smiling faces there disappear and stand up. As I readjust the blanket to my standing form, a sound catches my ear.

It's low and soft, almost not hearable. It's coming from up the stairs. I move slowly over to them, stopping at the base. The mysterious noise sounds again, this time it's more of a crying out, sharper, louder.

I carefully, step by step, walk up the stairs. When I reach the top I find that it's coming from Blakes room. I wait in the blackness a few minutes, contemplating what to do. He sounds like he's having a nightmare.

That part of me, the part that always felt sorry for him and woke him up form nightmares, jabs at my heart. I chew on my lip a minute before wrapping my fingers around the doorknob, twisting it.

He's room is illuminated with the gleaming light of the full moon.
My eye's fall upon his figure laying there, sheets thrown off, without a shirt, breathing raggedly. Even from a distance away I can see little droplets of sweat on him.

Is he sick? does he have a fever?
I tip toe forward.

He grips the sheets and arches his back, whining in doing so.

I come to a standstill next to his bed.
"Blake" I mumble softly.

His mouths open and his tongue darts out, licking his lips. His jaw is slack as he begins to pant.

"Blake?" I repeat.

"Farrah.." It comes as a murmur, almost a moan.

"What?" I ask.

He's eyes are still closed, maybe he's still asleep. I poke at his damp shoulder, trying to wake him.
"Oh shit...Farrah!"

I jump back when he screams. What's wrong with him? Did I poke him that hard?

"Blake-ohf!" In one quick motion he grabs my arm and throws me onto the mattress, rolling on top of me. He grips my hair tightly, still digging his fingers into my wrist. His weight presses down so hard it's difficult to breath.

"Oh god...Mmm" He mumbles into my neck, he grinds his bottom half into mine, something stiff moves against my thigh.
A wet, warm tongue runs across my neck. The hand on my wrist moves to my chest rubbing it. It hurts.

He's scaring me, what is he doing? I don't like it!
This can't be how he touched that other girl, this is painful and scary, not fun.
"Blake stop!"

He freezes over me. Retracting his tongue, he pulls back and looks at me for the first time, eyes wide.

"Farrah? W-Wha.."He trails off as if confused "It was just a dream.." He looks sad.

"Get off, your squishing me" I squeak, almost completely out of air. He rolls off me and onto his knees.

"What just happened?" He questions as I regain the much missed air to my lungs.

"I heard something, I thought you were having a nightmare so I was going wake you up, but you were yelling at me and then you grabbed me and you started touched me and it hurt. Why did you hurt me Blake?" I whimper staring up at him.

"I-I don't know baby girl, I was dreaming"

"That you wanted injure me?" I cock my head to one side.

"No! I just-urg! I can't explain"

"You never can" I mutter climbing across the sweaty sheets to the edge of the bed. I swing my legs over and stand up, glancing back at him.

His head in his hand, he looks distraught.

When a million questions cloud your head without answers, who and what do you turn to?