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The sky looked so fresh and clean, like a freshly painted watercolor. It was a trip watching the stars pour down from the heavens after the disappearing sun. Slowly, the orange orb fell beneath the mountains, and then dropped out of sight. Dark blue-blackness of night crept across the sky dragging behind it a blanket of a billion stars.
I felt like I had just been witness to something so special and secret.
I continued to sit there, just watching the night sky. I liked the night better than the day, even though as a child the night had haunted me. As an adult, it still haunted me, but it was quieter and less demanding than the day. By nature, night was a peaceful time; it whisked away worry and replaced it with slumber. But when the sun came up, so did demands, chores, and jobs.
Slowly, I started to climb back down the rocks, looking one last time at the special view. As with all things, the come down was much harder than the high. The rocks were now covered with nighttime dew; I could barely see my hands, let alone what lie beneath me. I breathed heavily, wishing I'd worn shoes with more grip than my snow boots. That wish became a plea when, halfway down, my boot slipped. My hands grappled for any handhold as I fell backward. I might have screamed. I'm sure I did.
I stared up at the beautiful night sky, my head pounding and every muscle and bone in my body screaming. I lay there, feeling the hard, frozen ground under me. Staring up at the breathtaking sky, I tried to determine if the view had been worth all this pain. I never did decide.
Slowly, and against the protestations of my body, I got up. I took light steps and rolled my shoulders, feeling for breaks or sprains: nothing. I took a few deep breaths, all seemed okay. I determined I was not seriously injured, just badly bruised.
Every minute, it got darker and harder to see, harder to find my way back to the cabin. Move it, Moore. I sucked it up and walked back, grimacing as each step sent ricochets of pain through my body.
I wasn't afraid of walking alone through the forest. Yeah, it was nighttime and I had a psycho ex-boyfriend after me, but doing this didn't scare me. I had never been afraid of tangible things, like serial killers or crazed axe murderers.
When I was growing up, night terrors had haunted me. It was always the things I couldn't control that scared me. I can at least gut punch a serial killer before he guts me. I can't gut punch a phantom while I'm paralyzed with sleep.
One of the worst dreams I had as a child was a lucid dream. In it, I had been staring at my wall, only the wall was not a wall—it was made of Mickey Mouse figurines. They were grotesque and distorted, laughing and dancing and taunting me. I tried to scream for my mother, but no sound came from my throat. The wall of figurines kept closing in on me, and I couldn't move. I couldn't scream. Eventually, I woke up drenched in sweat. The dream felt like it had gone on for hours.
Other times, I would sleep but knew things were standing over my bed, leaning over me as I slept.
The night terrors only became worse as I got older. I began running from my room as things chased me in my dreams, screaming.
Luckily, I don’t have night terrors as often anymore. But now, I take pills. Lots and lots of pills.
The cabin came into view, warm and glowing. Only a couple more yards to salvation.
An arm grabbed my bruised elbow, and Vic's angry voice pierced my aching head like an ice pick. “Where the hell have you been?”
I was dragged inside and sat down like a child. Too tired to defend myself, I sunk into the couch and closed my eyes. Above the buzzing in my ears, I could faintly hear Vic berating me. Comfy couch.
“Irresponsible! I couldn’t find—. What happened to you?”
I opened my eyes to see Vic bend down in front of me, scrutinizing me like an experiment. I shook my head at his question. Ouch.
“Nothing,” I responded, my eyelids closing on their own. Falling from rocks makes you sleepy.
“Not nothing,” Vic said, grabbing my wrist to examine my arm.
I tried not to wince, but I'm sure he saw it. He mumbled to himself as he surveyed the damage. I felt a rough hand on my face, a thumb gently prying up my eyelids one at a time.
Vic sighed, “You have a concussion.”
I opened my eyes wide. There were two Vics staring at me. I rubbed my eyes to clear my vision. One Vic, better.
“Do I have to stay awake all night?” I asked, not relishing the prospect. I really was sleepy.
“No,” Vic replied, all business-like. “I'll just have to wake you up a couple of times in the night. It will be best if you sleep with me.”
I frowned. This was not how I imagined my first time sleeping with Vic. Not that I imagined it . . . Okay, of course I imagined it, but I didn't think it would ever happen. Vic was my dark fantasy that I knew would never come to pass. The idea of sleeping with him, without him, made me feel like I was trying to grasp at water.
“What’s up?” Vic asked.
“Nothing,” I said, eyes downcast. I could feel Vic's eyes but he didn't question me. A large clap resounded in the room, startling me. My eyes flashed up to Vic, just as he finished rubbing his hands together. His mouth was spread in that cocky smile I loathed and loved.
“Time for bed, Lenny,” Vic said.
I frowned again. I needed to shower and brush my teeth before I was ready for bed. Sure, I was tired and really wanted to sleep, but he didn't have the right to declare that I was ready for bed.
