Taion

A gasp escaped my lips, my arms were trembling. It was so hard to hold myself up when I was in a position like this. So, so very hard. My breathing was harsh and sporadic, shattered. Like me.

My vision was blurred by the tears running down my cheeks and the strands of hair that clung to my face like annoying gnats. I shut my eyes tightly, tremors making me shake and I felt at any moment I’d collapse. A gust of cold air hit the back of my neck, causing me to shiver more. If he was trying to make this more romantic, trying to make it seem like he actually cared about me, he was doing a bad job of it.

“Don’t.” I voice, knowing what he was about to do. I sobbed, wanting to pull away, to hide under the covers and never to emerge again. Or maybe even die. I’d take that over this any day.

“Shush, shush, shush, shush, shush, shush.” He smoothed down my hair, I pulled my head to the side, away from him. His fingers trailed down my sides, resting on my naked hips. He leaned forward, over my trembling weak body and whispered, “You’ll be begging for me by the time I get done with you.”

My eyes widened, my mouth slightly opening as I exhaled, but it was cut extremely short when I screamed. He was inside me.

The scream that woke me up was echoing in my ears and I halfway hoped no one had heard it and when I realized Emma was still asleep beside me, I knew she hadn't. I looked over at the clock. It was flashing 5:43 in digital red numbers. I had about an hour I could try to go back to sleep. I’d set the alarm to 6:30, but I had a feeling I wasn’t going back to sleep any time soon.

I slid out from the bed, grabbing a clean pair of clothes and started a shower for me. The warm water, I figured, would help. I close the door, not bothering to turn on the lights. The moonlight bathes me through the window and I notice…I'm shaking. I lift my hand up so I can see it better, and watch as the spazzmatic shivers take control of it.

I take in a breath, trying to calm myself, but it does no good; I'm still shivering. I turn on the lights and look at myself in the mirror.

I'm a mess. I look tired. More tired than I've ever been in my whole life. My eyes seem to be mocking my appearance, telling me I'll never smile again, and I almost believe it before I realize I've got Emma. My hairs a mess, it's everywhere: not in the "teased" way, but the "I-a-wreck" kind of way. Besides that, the shirt I've worn to bed is too big to me and slides off my shoulder.

My shoulder, its bare, except for the fact a small scar mars it. I pull up the fabric, averting my eyes in the process. The scar, all it's doing is telling me the nightmare was real, that at one point, it actually did happen.

I shiver, carefully taking my shirt off and grimace when my wrist throbs. When I fractured it at Warped, I'd never gotten it wrapped up and it hadn't healed properly, according to doctors. Just because I'd never let it heal properly gave me a lot more trouble than it should: I had to have a short surgical procedure for them to set it back again, straight, and heal correctly. That was a week ago and it was still causing me slight pain.

I took off the rest of my clothing, stepped into the shower and scrubbed at my skin harshly. It had been eight years, half my life, and yet, still after that nightmare, I could feel him all over me, inside me. I scrubbed harder, harder, harder, until my skin was raw and small droplets of blood were beginning to form at the surface. And yet I felt as if he was still there. The water went cold, but I wasn't moving; not until he was gone from me for good. Until they all were.

A knock at the door startled me and I turned off the hot water knob. It had long ago turned to freezing, but it hadn't really occurred to me. I stepped out, wrapping a towel around my waist and walking across the tiled floors. I opened the door.

Mrs. Barakat was standing there. I bit my lip and looked away. "I'm really sorry, Miss B, I used up all the hot water." I looked up and away quickly.

She pulled her housecoat around her tightly and just watched me worriedly. "No, babe. It's not that. Its just-" She looked over her shoulder. "-It's six. You don't have to be a school for another two hours. Why are you up so early? Is everything alright, dear?"

I blinked and nodded. "I'm good. Just woke up earlier, that’s all."

She smiled back at me poiletly. "I'll brew a fresh pot of coffee."

"That sounds good." I started to close the door so I could change into my clean cloths, but she caught the door and grabbed my arm, almost causing me to drop the towel I was holding onto at my waist. She didn't notice my look of horror at what almost happened. Instead, she was focused on my raw skin.

"Phoenix? Are you okay? Did you slip and fall or something?" She looked up back at my worried, then flicked her gaze to my wrist. She examined it motherly fashioned, causing me to blush. "You didn't fall on it did you? We don't need you any more hurt than you already are."
I pulled my hand away from her softly as not to hurt her feelings. I laughed, falsely. "No, I'm fine, Miss Joyce. Really. But-" I cleared my throat looking down at my towel. "-I was kind of in the middle of something. Do you mind leaving so I can get dressed?" I looked back up at her to see her laughing and blushing.

"Oh, yes, dear. I'm sorry. I just wanted to check on you." She started walking
away. "Breakfast will be ready in ten. Be in the kitchen."

"Okay," I called back, closing the door. I pulled my towel up, flipping it over to the other side and started to dry off my hair. I put on my clothes and shook my head like a dog. I immediately thought of Cricket, who, because of house rules, was currently chained up outside. I frowned at the thought. She wasn't one to take kindly to the thought of being restrained and whenever I went to see her, she was mostly moping around. I made a note to go see her after breakfast today.

I stepped outside the bathroom, stretching and letting a yawn out. I shuffled over to the bed and sat down on the edge. "Wake up, Emma."

She moaned in protest and clutched the blanket’s closer to her. “Emma,” I warned, growling.

She opened her eyes and looked at me, her brown hair a mess as she sat up. “I’m up, I’m up!” Her tone was annoyed, like a child whose favorite toy had just been taken from her: in this case, sleep. I grin, pulling her up. She, instead, closed her eyes and leaned into me.
“School’s today. You must get up.”

I sighed when she didn’t move and instead got up myself. “If you’re not down in five minutes, no ice cream for two weeks.”

She opened her tired eyes and pouted. “You can’t do that, Birdie! You’re not that mean.”
I smirked as she fell back into bed. “Try me.” She threw her arms around my neck and nuzzled her self into the crook of it.

“Carry me, Birdie?” I wanted to say no, but she looks up at me with her ice blue eyes and it’s impossible to say ‘no’. Instead, I sigh, gather her up in my arms and take her to the kitchen, treating her like a princess. It was a game she loved, but we hadn’t played if for so long.

“Today, you’re highness, is an excellent breakfast of Fruity Pebbles and a glass of apple juice.”

She looked up at me smiling as I set her down. She danced around the room, her eyes closed in contentment. Her night gown with Cinderella printed on it, twirled around her. Give her a crown, a few servants, a huge house, and a prince charming and she could be an actual princess. I small smile wormed its way onto my lips as she hummed softly to herself: the song I’d put her to sleep with, Christine’s song.

She was still dancing around like a child, and despite her incident over the summer, she’d still attained her childlike innocence; the hospital visit had no effect on her, but I’m also sure she had no clue how close to death’s door she’d come. Mr. Barakat entered, laughing as Emma bumped into him.

She fell backwards, landing on her bottom, with her hands catching her. She smiled up at him. “Oh, good morning, Mr. Bassam!” I offered her my hand, pulling her up.

“Emma, you need to keep your eyes open when dancing. That way you don’t run into any one.” I scolded. I gave an apologetic smile to Mr. Barakat, who smiled back.

“No, no,” He looked down at Emma, still grinning, “It’s quite pleasant to have children back in the house. Carry on, m’dear.” He walked over to the coffee pot, pouring some into a mug and adding creamer. I’d learned from the three weeks of staying here that Mr. Barakat liked only creamer, Mrs. Barakat preferred both creamer and suger. I glanced back at Emma.

She nodded once, not needing to be told twice, and resumed her dancing, still closing her eyes. She had no sense of direction, and as she twirled, she almost ran into Mrs. Barakat who was now in the kitchen as well. I plucked Emma from behind, twirling her around once before placing her in a chair. “Stay there.”

She frowned. “Stay there, your highness.”

The two adults chuckled at the five year old. I just rolled my eyes. I was spoiling her…but I couldn’t stop, either. So…

I poured her a bowl of the cereal, adding the milk and then giving her a Juice box. She mumbled a quick prayer before digging in, eating at it like a rabid animal. I watched, amused, and poured myself a cup of coffee. I took a sip of it, black, letting the bitter, hot taste burn my mouth. My nightmare, the memories, had caused me to loose my appetite, but I sat at the table like all the others.

It was customary in this house that you eat every meal together with family…and if you weren’t hungry, you still had to sit at the table and participate in conversation. Meal time was family time.

I sipped at the bitter drink as I slid into the last open chair; this dining table set only had enough for four people to sit and eat. I looked down, tracing patterns in the wood. Mrs. Barakat had a knack for knowing if you were thinking of other things, other things that bothered you, and she quickly rescued me from my thoughts.

“Babe, is everything alright?” She took a sip of her coffee as well, smiling at me.

I forced a smile back as well. “Yeah. Just school stuff.” Lying was starting to become natural for me. I traced another pattern. This one reminded me of a oddly shaped stop sign.

“Did you have good dreams?” Emma piped up.

I froze, but my finger still moved around on the table top. I tried blinking away the question before fully ignoring it and muttering. “I’ve got to go. I’m going to be late for school.”

I poured out the rest of my coffee. “But school doesn’t start ‘til another hour!” Miss Joyce called after me.

“I was late yesterday!” I called back, knowing they wouldn’t buy it, but they also wouldn’t come after me either. They weren’t like Alex. Alex. I sighed, grabbing my book bag and leaving without wishing Emma goodbye. I had enough on my plate this morning.

I didn’t need this. I touched the scar on my shoulder, bowing my head and tugging my jacket closer around my body. Before long it would be cold enough to see my breath.