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“You kids have grown up too fast. I wish your dad and John hadn’t grown so far apart. Kyson would kill me if I told you this, but he used to look forward to your visits. You two seemed to have that classic boy girl love and hate relationship. You know how when a boy likes you, he kicks the back of your chair.”
“I find that hard to believe, but appreciate you saying it, anyway.”
“See you in the morning. We do breakfast at seven.”
The door closes and I peek under the bed. Kyson isn’t there. Before I can look for him, fingers dig into my hips and those torturous lips are brushing against the shell of my ear again. “You said you didn’t have a boyfriend.”
“Shouldn’t you be in your room in case your mom is looking for you?”
He nibbles at my neck. “She’ll think I’m in the shower. I left the water running and the light on, lil’ doll. Let’s talk about why you lied to me.”
“I didn’t lie. We’re on a break.” The lies keep coming.
“Trying to make me jealous, then?”
“No,” I swear as he sucks on my neck, and I give up arguing.
“You have to admit there’s something hot about almost getting caught.”
He’s not wrong.
“I think you need to go to your room and let me get my beauty rest.”
“You think you can handle me?”
“Kyson,” I murmur when he sucks harder on my neck. “Don’t give me a bruise.”
“I want it right where everyone can see. Want them to know you belong to me now.”
“I don’t though. We can’t be doing this. It’s risky, and I don’t even like you.”
“We’ll see about that.” He kisses me once more, then slips out of my room.
I didn’t sleep for crap, but then again, I never do. I’ve had night terrors since I was little. Not even medication helps. You’d think I would have outgrown them by now, but if anything since my father passed away, they’re worse than they’ve ever been.
I was hoping that maybe a change of environment would be the trick, but no luck.
I’ve tried everything. Counting sheep. Melatonin. Therapy. None of it has helped.
Most nights I end up reading until the words blur on the pages and if I’m lucky I will get a few solid hours in without tossing and turning like a rotisserie chicken.
Last night when I’d close my eyes and drift into the dream state I’d awaken flushed with chest pains. The nightmares aren’t like most people think. They happen in flashes that I can’t make sense of and usually I forget most of the details.
My last therapist wanted to put me under hypnosis. She had some theory that the night terrors were created by my subconscious in order to protect me from something I don’t want to remember. My dad thought she was a quack and stopped taking me to see her.
I go through the motions of getting ready for my first full day at my new school, wishing I’d taken my uncle’s suggestion that I wait to start until next week. It’s probably too late now to do so and I might as well get it over with.
Kyson has spent most of breakfast ignoring me completely, which is for the best. That is until my uncle brings up Matt visiting for Thanksgiving.
“How old is this Matt character?” The moment he brings it up, Kyson puts his hand on my upper thigh under the cloak of the table.
“Almost nineteen,” I squeak when he gets a little too close to somewhere he shouldn’t be touching me.
“If he comes to visit, he can sleep in the den on the pullout sofa. You known this guy long?”
“Of course. Matt’s dad worked on the same crew Dad did for the logging company. He was there when… well, you know.”
“Does this mean I get to invite a guest over for a sleepover?” Kyson practically growls at the question.
