Screaming

Sleep didn’t come easy this night. Esther was thinking about Bell’s question. She had done such a good job of fighting why she was really here. All the excitement of moving, getting the house clean and getting to know Oscar had been heaven sent distractions.

She had that same nightmare. Over and over she relived the same event. It made Groundhogs Day look like child’s play. She hadn’t had that dream in a month. She had been too exhausted. Was this why the landlord was so ready to get her gone? All the late night screaming? No one in the building had really said anything to her. But could it be?

She woke to Oscar trying to wake her. He was kneeling over her, frantic. She was covered in sweat, her heart was racing. But she wasn’t in the bed. Where was she?

Oscar had finally gotten control of her hands. “Esther, what’s wrong?” She closed her eyes to focus on her breathing. “Esther?” He whispered.

She slowly reached out for him. As if he were a ghost. A figment of her overactive imagination. If she touched him, would he disappear? No, he was really there. She touched him again to make sure.

Her movements reminded him of a child trying to touch a bubble but at the same time not wanting to pop it. The look on her face was one of confused torment.

“Esther?”

Once she convinced herself he was real, she held onto him for dear life; pulling him as close as she could. His heart was beating wildly. Wait a minute, she told herself. He didn’t have a shirt on. There she was clinging to his bare chest; his warm skin, and the hint of Old Spice.

“Esther? Say something please.” His voice was gentle.

She backed away for a moment. There was enough light in the room for her to see that he had a wild expression in his eyes. “Did I hurt you?” She held his face. “Did I?”

“It’s only a scratch, I promise.”

“I’m so sorry.” She sniffed.

“Please, it’s okay.” He held her hands that were still on his face. As he pulled them away he kissed the top of them.

“Hold me.” She pleaded. “Don’t let go.”

A command he gladly followed. He sat with his back up against the wall, guided her to him and wrapped her up as tightly as he could with his arms and legs. She snuggled into him as if he were a blanket.

He had been asleep but woke to gentle breath on his neck. Her head was on his shoulder. He smiled a great big smile. He had no idea what the nightmare was about but he was loving this.

He woke again to feel her snuggling her face into his neck. Her arms were around his back. He readjusted his position so he could hold her again.

“Tighter,” she moaned.

He did his best to honor her wishes.

He woke to her caressing his face. “Thank you.”

“Why were you screaming?”

“Bad dream.” She snuggled back into his arms.

When she woke again, it took her a little while to figure out she was in the guest room, almost in the back corner between a night stand and the wall. Oscar had guided her to his lap. That much she remembered. He had gotten her out of her hiding place. Out of her nightmare. Could he do it? Could he be the one to end her nightmare? The thought made her shiver. There wasn’t enough therapy in the world to end her nightmare. Time possibly could dull the trauma.