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She frowned as I pulled away. It looked like she might say something else, but she bit her lip instead and rolled over, pulling a pillow close, much the same way I had before I had come in here.
“Night.” She whispered.
“Night, Kasha.” I replied, as I closed the door behind me. “Sweet dreams.” I said, hoping, more than anything, that she really would have sweet dreams.
I might have killed the monsters in real life, but she was going to have to fight the ones in her head alone… And there was nothing that pissed me off more than not being able to fight them with her.
Kasha
‘Alexa, play Gasoline by Halsey.’
Iwoke up to the smell of cooking bacon. The early morning sun was shining in through the rough-hewn window, bathing the room in a gold-green light. I stretched and rubbed the sleep out of my eyes before swinging my legs over the edge of the bed.
I had woken up last night to Rycon staring at me from inches away, with a terrified look on his face. I had never seen him look like that before. Normally he was smirking or scowling. His absolutely devastated and concerned expression told me I must have been screaming in my sleep.
Nightmares were not new to me. I had suffered from them for years. The amount of work I had to do to push through the trauma that I endured in my first stint of slavery had helped to make them less frequent, but they never fully went away. I knew they likely never would.
The first time I had been freed from Ash Nevra’s court, a touch from anyone had been nearly unbearable. I had felt like my body wasn’t my own, and nothing felt safe. I had to do quite a bit of internal work and really push myself to learn to trust people again, especially males.
It had been exhausting and had taken years for me to really get back to myself. For the most part, this time felt the same. It was as if a scab had been ripped off an old wound and now, I was actively bleeding again. It would be too easy to get swept up in the torrent of trauma and I was worried that this time, I may not be able to claw my way back out from the cold depths of PTSD.
I again, felt like my body wasn’t my own and felt myself struggling with excessive fight or flight responses to normal situations. The flashbacks had returned, and of course, I could barely tolerate any sudden movements or uninvited touch.
However, last night, when I had come to and realized who it was that was shaking me, instead of locking up and feeling as if I were being attacked, I had suddenly felt safe. I knew Rycon had been surprised when I had thrown myself into his arms, and to be honest, I had been nearly as shocked as he was.
Amon and Dossidian had learned the hard way not to wake me up from my nightmares without a solid shield in place. Looking back at it now, the number of times one of them had endured a rogue quasar was impressive. They had treated me as if I were made of glass for years, and always seemed to be walking on eggshells when I had been around. It had taken over ten years before they started treating me like a normal person, and it had taken that long for me to want them to.
Something was different this time. I wasn’t sure if it was me that was different, or if it was Rycon. Rycon hadn’t been treating me like I was some fragile, broken thing. He treated me like he always had. Like I was strong enough to challenge him and fight back. Like he wanted to push me, and I couldn’t decide if I hated it or not.
One second, he was throwing me against the wall and threatening me, and then the next, he was holding me against him, and doing everything in his power to keep me from falling apart.
It was confusing.
What was even more confusing was how I felt about it. If it had been anyone else, I didn’t think I would have wanted to be held or touched after that night terror. But for some reason, the second my eyes opened and I realized it was him who was shaking me awake, I had just wanted him to hold me and tell me it was going to be alright. Then, to my surprise, that was exactly what he did.
He had also given me the closest thing to an apology I had ever heard come out of his mouth. He told me that he had been wrong for threatening to sleep in the same room as me. It hadn’t been the most eloquent apology I had ever heard, but the effort was there.
If I was being honest with myself, his threat to sleep in the same room as me was not what disturbed me the most. What had disturbed me, was the fact that a part of me wanted him to follow through on the threat. It was messed up; to want him to push himself onto me like that, and it made me feel like something was horribly wrong with me.
At least if he had followed through on his threat, I could have put the blame on him and told myself it wasn’t what I wanted. I wouldn’t have been the screwed up sexual assault victim who wanted to cuddle up to a male days after she had been saved.
However, despite my private internal desires, Rycon did not sleep next to me. He had respected my wishes and left me alone. He hadn’t even risen to the bait I had set, when I had dumped his bag out in the hallway.
Truthfully, after the night terror, I didn’t want him to leave. When he had tucked me back in, I had come so close to asking him to stay, and when he had finally walked away it felt like a piece of my soul was leaving with him.
The nights alone were too quiet, and my head was too loud without him there to constantly piss me off.
Shaking off the memories of the night before, I chewed on my lip and sighed. I knew in my soul he would never hurt me or truly force himself on me, no matter what he said when I pushed him. Why did a fucked up part of me want him to? Why did I feel like that’s what I deserved?
“Kasha!” The asshole panther in question called from the kitchen. “Wake up, breakfast is ready!”
I glared at the closed door and considered ignoring his dumbass until Rhyalla’s voice followed.
“Hope you like mimosas!” She chimed, and my lip twitched. Who didn’t like mimosas? I guess I could go out there for a few minutes…
I dug through the bag that Rycon had packed for me and found a soft pair of loose fitting cotton pants and a matching oversized t-shirt. I glanced at my reflection in the wood framed mirror next to the wardrobe and sighed. I looked like shit, but I couldn’t bring myself to care. I half-heartedly ran the brush Rycon had thrown into the bag through my short blue hair but didn’t bother styling it at all before padding out of the room.
I entered the kitchen to find Rycon standing shirtless at the woodburning stove, deftly flipping eggs in a pan. He clearly had just showered, his wet, dark hair falling into his golden eyes and a pair of grey sweatpants hanging low on his hips.
