Few Words (A Bookworms & Booya Book)

  Chapter Twelve

  Nightmares

  ...a young woman's awkward silence... "It's not a big deal. I tripped..." ... "It's nothing. Really. I shut my hand in the car door." ... "Oh. I'm fine. I bumped a can of soup out of the cupboard. It hit me in the eye." ... silent hours in her room, silent walks home; alone, staring off in space out the window, starting at the slightest sound...

  ...a small street in a bustling city... Deling City... Traffic sounds invade the silence as a young woman and young man walk side by side toward a three-story apartment complex. The young woman has short, straight brunette hair with a mass of silver streaks throughout. Her face is solemn and shadowed with a slowly vanishing bruise on her right cheek. Scars and scratches have faded with the years, hidden now by always used make-up. The young man has short-cut black hair and intensely watching silver eyes that hold an expression of concern. He wears jeans and a simple red t-shirt.

  The pair halts outside the entrance of the apartment building. The young man faces the young woman, who continues to stare at the road at her feet.

  "Let me go up with you."

  She shakes her head. "It's okay."

  The young man motions to the third story. "But it's late. He's going to be mad."

  She raises sorrowful and dead eyes to the entrance of the building. "I'll be fine."

  The young man rubs at the back of his neck and releases a quick breath. "Ahndra. . . Ahndra, why don't you finish your studies at Dollet. It'll be safer than staying here." Ahndra remains quiet and lowers her gaze to the ground again. The young man watches her. "Ana, please. I don't want him to hurt you anymore. Come with me to Dollet. Mom and Dad won't mind. I swear. And you'll love my sis."

  Ahndra focuses on the door again, but she can't step toward it. "I'm afraid, Marshal."

  Marshal gently grips her arms to turn her to face him. "So am I. I'm afraid he's going to kill you if you don't come now."

  Ahndra looks again to the apartments. "I don't know what to do."

  Marshal watches her a moment before straightening and lowering his hands from her arms. She meets his gaze. "You've got to follow your heart, Ahndra."

  Tears shine in the young woman's eyes. "Follow my heart? Marshal, I want him to love me."

  Marshal gives a slight nod. "I know, but maybe. . . maybe to do that you have to run away. Maybe he has to lose you to see he loves you?"

  Ahndra's glistening eyes widen. "You think so?"

  Marshal smiles and gives a slight shrug as he tucks his hands into his pockets. "Maybe."

  Ahndra moves her gaze to the third story. Then she looks back to Marshal and smiles brightly. "I'll go get my things."

  Marshal steps after her as she moves toward the apartments. "Ahndra, no. He'll catch you." He catches hold of her hand on the front steps. She faces him. "Ana, please. Let's go now. We can--"

  "Marshal, I'll be very quiet. I've come in late before." She smiles brighter still and stands on tiptoes to kiss him on the cheek. "I'll be right back."

  She turns and hurries up the stairs. Marshal stares after her with an expression of worry and dread--

  I sat up sharply, and confusion muddled my brain. I rubbed at my forehead with a slight frown. That isn't right. . . is it? I looked over my left shoulder at Marshal as he slept and felt the confusion deepen. I grew up with Seifer, not Marshal. I met Marshal at. . . . The location vanished, and I rubbed at my forehead a little harder. I met Marshal at. . . . But it wouldn't come. I kept seeing him outside my apartments when I was fourteen. But that was Seifer, I reminded.

  I slightly shook my head and laid back down. Marshal sleepily mumbled "You okay?" as he moved closer and wrapped his arms around me.

  I tensed as I fought back the roar and need--"Fine."

  He yawned and rested his chin in the nook of my shoulder and neck as he mumbled "Okay" and drifted to a deeper sleep, arms holding me against him.

  I stared ahead in muted panic and. . . and? I blinked and continued to stare blankly ahead as I studied within, the dark beckoning my mind back to the new nightmare as a different pair of arms held me. . .

  ...a young woman's awkward silence... "It's not a big deal. I tripped..." ... "It's nothing. Really. I shut my hand in the car door." ... "Oh. I'm fine. I bumped a can of soup out of the cupboard. It hit me in the eye." ... silent hours in her room, silent walks home; alone, staring off in space out the window, starting at the slightest sound...

  ...a small street in a bustling city... Deling City... Traffic sounds invade the silence as a young woman is escorted toward a three-story apartment complex by two young men walking on each side of her. The young woman has short, straight brunette hair with a mass of silver streaks throughout. Her face is solemn and shadowed with a slowly vanishing bruise on her right cheek. Scars and scratches have faded with the years, hidden now by always used make-up.

  The young man on her right has short-cut blond hair and a brooding expression of withheld anger. He wears combat boots of black and military issue slacks and shirt of dark blue. A gunblade is holstered at his side.

  The young man on her left has spiked black hair and an intensely watching silver gaze that holds an expression of concern as he occasionally glances her direction. He is dressed in jeans and a red t-shirt and holds her hand in a gentle clasp. The trio halts outside the entrance of the apartment building. Both young men face the young woman, who continues to stare at the road at her feet.

  "Let me go up with you," the young blond insists in a sharp tone.

  She shakes her head. "It's okay."

  The young man with the black hair motions to the third story. "But it's late. He's going to be mad."

  She raises sorrowful and dead eyes to the entrance of the building. "I'll be fine."

  The young man with the black hair watches her face as the young blonde rubs at the back of his neck and releases a quick breath.

  The young man with the black hair speaks next, softer. "Ahndra, why don't you finish your studies at Dollet. It'll be safer than staying here." Ahndra remains quiet and lowers her gaze to the ground again.

  The young blond clenches his jaw. "I swear, if that damn drunk hits you one more time, I'm gonna rip his arm off and shove it up his ass."

  Ahndra looks up. "Don't, Seifer. Please."

  Seifer motions behind him. "Then come to Balamb Garden. Headmaster Cid'll enroll you first thing! You won't need to come back here; ever!" He stretches his arms and hands toward her, ignoring her flinch. "I'll loan you some money, so you can get some clothes and shit. Hell, Headmaster Cid'll probably give you some things. But you have to come now. If you don't. . ." The young man straightens and releases a deep breath. "Ahndra, If you don't, he's gonna kill you. I know it."

  Ahndra focuses on the door again, but she can't step toward it. "I don't know what to do."

  The young man with the black hair gently grips her arms to turn her to face him. "Ana, you've got to follow your heart."

  Tears shine in the young woman's eyes. "Follow my heart? Marshal, I want him to love me."

  Marshal gives a slight nod. "I know, but maybe. . . maybe to do that you have to run away. Maybe he has to lose you to see he loves you?"

  Ahndra's glistening eyes widen. "You think so?"

  Marshal smiles and gives a slight shrug as he tucks his hands into his pockets. "Maybe."

  Ahndra moves her gaze to the third story. Then she looks back to Marshal and smiles brightly. "I'll go get my things."

  Marshal steps after her as she moves toward the apartments. "Ahndra, no. He'll catch you." He catches hold of her hand on the front steps. She faces him. "Ana, please. Let's go now. We can--"

  "Marshal, I'll be very quiet. I've come in late before." She smiles brighter still and stands on tiptoes to kiss him on the cheek. "I'll be right back."

  She turns and hurries up the stairs. Marshal and Seifer stare after her with expressions of worry and dread--

  My eyes snapped open. That isn't right. That isn't what happened! And yet the clarit
y of the memory argued my insistence. I didn't know Marshal back then! But the words he said and the way they eased my mind. . . . I squeezed my eyes shut and slightly shook my head. "No," I whispered.

  An arm adjusted itself around my mid-section, again causing my eyes to flash open. Marshal.

  "It's okay, Ana," he murmured sleepily. "You're safe." Marshal yawned and drew me a little closer against him. "Go to sleep."

  My brain began to throb as my chest tightened with that something I didn't understand. I closed my eyes and brought a hand up to my scarred eye. It was still there. I hadn't escaped in time. That wasn't the. . . way. . . . But I liked the new nightmare. Two friends. Two supports of strength. Two people who understood me.

  I drew in a ragged breath, and again the arm drew me closer. Supporting. Protecting? I hadn't ever been protected from my nightmares. Those had always been my own battle. My own private torture to withstand and survive again and again. I lowered my hand from my eye and then moved my other hand and arm to cover the one that wanted me.

  The warmth and softness of his skin against mine tingled. I closed my eyes and released another breath. This one softer. Less ragged. Just a silent statement of disbelief at the new nightmare. . . dream? I hadn't ever had one before...

  ...A young woman with brunette hair colored by streaks of gray walks softly and stealthily up the stairs to the third story of an apartment building, missing the creaky boards she knows so well. She treads down the long hallway with the torn carpet and peeling wallpaper with growing dread, her mouth going dry as nausea works its way into the deepest pit of her stomach and soul. She swallows hard, eyes focused on the farthest door.

  She halts in front of it, pulling a single key from her pocket and biting her lower lip as she slips it into the lock--

  The door is yanked open, light from beyond is shadowed by the massive frame. She cowers back as her wide-eyed gaze focuses on the heavy-lidded eyes of her father. His breath smells of stale beer and cigarettes. A pornographic movie is heard in the background, the moans and groans heightening Ahndra's dread.

  "You little whore!" He grabs her arm and drags her forward. "What're you doin' out this late? Workin' the street for drugs? Blowin' each money-lovin' dickhead that puts his hand up your legs!"

  He throws her forward ahead of him, keeping a vise-like hold on her hand as he slaps her hard across her face. She doesn't make a sound as blood drops from her broken lip. He slaps her again, so hard she drops to her knees.

  "Yeah, that's right, you sex-hungry bitch. Get in the position." He begins to unfasten his belt. "I'll give you what you want!"

  Ahndra stares up at him with sorrowful eyes. "Daddy, please. . . ."

  He cuffs her hard. "Don't 'daddy' me!"

  She chokes back a sob, and he grabs her up and throws her across the room toward her bedroom. "Get in there!" He follows after her, pushing and shoving at her trembling form. "You want it so bad, I'll sex you up!"

  She bites back a whimper as he shoves her further into her room--She trips over the tattered carpet and turns, falling into the old desk to the left of her bed. He strides forward as she struggles to her feet, grabbing her by the arm to lift her the remaining way. Blood gushes from her left eye. He cringes in disgust and pushes her away. She falls back, smacking her head on the desk and tumbling to the floor.

  clomp clomp clomp clomp

  "Get away from her!"

  The man turns sharply to see a towering form filling the doorway. A blond haired young man dressed in a military-type uniform of dark blue strides forward and grabs him by the shirtfront, lifting him several inches from the ground.

  "You bastard," the young man hisses.

  Another young man enters the room, this one in jeans and a red t-shirt with black hair and charcoal-silver eyes. "Ahndra!" The young man strides forward, gently holding the young woman by the upper arms and pulling her up from the floor. Blood continues to ooze from her left eye and her head falls limply back. "Ana. . . ."

  The young blond looks over to the crumpled form before focusing his gaze back on the older man. Rage and revenge flash in the young man's dark eyes. "I'm gonna kill you, you sack of shit."

  The young man punches the father in the face to the sound of cracking bones. Blood splatters the young man's clothes and the floor at his feet. The father groans in pain and goes limp. The young man tosses him hard to the left, sending him into the far wall with a loud crash and crunch. The father slumps to the ground.

  The young man with the pained silver eyes lifts the young woman up into his arms as the young blond retrieves a phone from a holster on his hip. They stride from the bedroom--

  I gasped and sat up.

  "Ahndra?" Marshal sat up as well.

  No! It didn't happen that way! Marshal wasn't there! Two different nightmares so horribly twisted together.

  Marshal rested a hand on my back, and I sent him a curt shake of my head. He lowered his hand. "Hey. What's the matter?"

  "It's wrong." I shook my head and gripped the blankets. "All wrong."

  He carefully watched my profile. "What is?"

  I met his gaze. "You weren't there," I pressed.

  Marshal's expression grew wary. "I wasn't where?"

  "In my life. Not before. Why now?"

  He regarded me before cautiously saying "I'm not sure I understand what you're saying, chicklit."

  "My dreams. Why are you there?" I shook my head. "You weren't!"

  Marshal lightly scratched at his scalp, still watching me. Then he released a deep breath and laid onto his left side, holding his weight up with his arm and elbow. "Ahndra, calm down and try again," he finally said. "You're not making sense, and I can't answer the question if I don't understand it."

  I pressed my lips together and moved my focus to the opposite wall, gathering my calm and the questions and pushing aside the confusion. "Dreams have always been scenes from my life," I said succinctly and slowly. I met his gaze. "You were not in my life. You were not in my dreams. Now you are in one though you were not in the other. Why?"

  Marshal lowered his gaze to the blankets and picked at a loose string. I watched him and felt my confusion grow.

  "You weren't," I pressed. But his expression. . . . "Were you?"

  Marshal cleared his throat and didn't look up. "I've, uh. . . ." He absently scrubbed at his scalp again before giving a deep sigh and rolling over to grab his handheld from the side-table. Marshal then punched in a few codes and hit the 'execute' button. A few moments later, the power in Winhill blacked out. The 'power override' feature of the security handheld was a last-resort. That Marshal had used it, thereby negating any listening/watching devices, spoke of the gravity of what he was about to tell me. After all, he could likely have just blown our cover.

  He set the handheld back onto the side-table and finally raised his gaze to meet mine. "I've been friends with Seifer a couple years longer than you."

  ". . .what."

  "I used to live in Deling City."

  I could feel the blood leave my face. The wrong number that Seifer had called, thereby meeting me. . . .

  Marshal hurried on. "Seifer and I lost touch a while after my family moved to Dollet, probably about four or five years ago." He lowered his gaze and rubbed at the back of his neck. "Before we moved I, uh, that is, Seifer asked me to--Shit."

  He raised his eyes to again meet mine. My stomach slithered and my insides twisted. No.

  Marshal released a quick breath. "Seifer called me up one day to help him beat the crap out of someone. Said somebody beat on one of his friends. So I came out."

  I lowered my gaze, eyes wide with shock.

  "You never did ask when I first met you. It was at your apartment. I helped take you to the hospital." Marshal stretched out a hand. "I only knew your name, and Seifer didn't give me any details except that your father was a bastard that beat on you. I didn't figure out you were her until. . . ." Marshal lowered his hand and eyes. "I didn't figure it out until earlier today. Feel like a
damned idiot, too."

  I blinked and slightly shook my head, shock numbing everything. "You. . . were there?"

  Why didn't I remember it before. Why now? It didn't make sense. Why would I have forgotten him and not Seifer? I shook my head again. It was impossible. Marshal had been living in Dollet. He couldn't have been at my final beating before my escape. It was impossible!

  "Of course, you were only, like, thirteen when I first met you," he said absently.

  Confusion roared, making my brain throb as I looked up. Marshal met my gaze. "Thirteen?"

  Marshal regarded me a second before slowly saying "Yeah. Your father had messed you up real bad, and we didn't get the chance to return the favor. You were down at the bottom of the steps. Seifer and I--"

  I covered my face with my hands. Bottom of the steps. First rape. Not final beating. I was so confused, splicing dreams and memories and confusing those facts I had.

  "Ana?" Marshal gently gripped my arm.

  ". . .fine" Only confused. Why did I remember Marshal being there outside my apartment at fourteen? Why did I also see him there at my final beating? Seifer had been there. Not Marshal. By his own confession he had first met me at the bottom of the steps!

  The power 'clunked' and came back on. I gave a slight twitch.

  Marshal rubbed my upper arm with a whispered "Damn it." Then I felt the shift and heard the shuffle as he sat back up. "You going to be able to sleep?" he asked softly.

  I released a shudder of a breath. I didn't know. I was so confused. I didn't understand his presence in the dream if he wasn't there. If he hadn't been there.

  "Do you need some space?"

  I lowered my hands and sharply looked over at him, my mind flaring with panic. "What? Why?"

  He held my gaze with that same calm expression of seriousness. "Well. . . ." he lowered his voice to a bare whisper "I should have told you before" and then raised the volume to say "Because you always need that when you have a nightmare."

  I held his gaze. Yes. He should have told me. But I didn't care. I tried to forget my past. Him telling me more about it would have been unwise. I likely would have hated him for it. Besides, it didn't matter he had met me before. . . did it?

  I looked away and laid back, aware of Marshal watching me as I rolled over onto my right side. "Stay." And when had I ever said that?

  Marshal released a slow and deep breath, and I heard him scrub at his scalp before he laid down beside me. Two friends. Two rescuers. All this time I had them and I didn't know it. I blinked the burning from my eyes as I hugged the blankets closer. Two friends. Two rescuers. I heard the sound of his head on the pillow as he looked over at me. Then he shifted. I expected to feel his arm, but it didn't come. I shifted and looked over at Marshal's back. I stared at it, numbed silence within. Then I moved closer, wrapping my arms around him as I pressed myself--

  Marshal tensed. I shrunk back, quickly rolling onto my other side.

  I heard him shift with a whispered "Shit" before he carefully touched my arm. I leaned a bit away.

  "Ana, I'm sorry. I didn't expect. . . I mean--" Marshal released a deep breath and softly asked, "Can I hold you?"

  He could. He had before. Like no one ever had. Not even my father. I closed my eyes and released a deep breath as I shifted to face him. Marshal drew me close, his arms surrounding me as I tried to relax my head onto his chest. Then the stroke on my hair began. My entire body relaxed as the darkness beckoned. I had to understand. I had to try and remember the nightmare...

  ...a small apartment in a bustling city... Deling City. Traffic sounds invade the sleeping silence of a new teen's room. The fumbling of a key in the lock of the front door doesn't wake her. Neither does the unsteady twist of the knob. The door is pushed open to reveal the reddened face of a man in uniform. He staggers forward, glazed eyes searching the apartment as he wipes spittle from his lips with the back of his hand. His glazed eyes struggle to focus on the first room down the hall.

  He smirks and staggers forward.

  The thirteen-year-old within still sleeps.

  The man--her father--stumbles into the doorway, leaning hard against the frame as his eyes focus on the slight form in the small bed. The glaze in his eyes changes as he steps forward and rips the covers from the bed. The young teen gasps and looks up, eyes widening in terror as she focuses on the expression of the man standing over her.

  "Ahndra, come 'ere."

  "No, Daddy. . . please," she cries softly, scrambling backwards.

  He grabs her ankles and yanks her roughly toward him.

  "Come 'ere! You know you want it!" He pulls her closer, one hand groping to remove clothes as she pushes and cries.

  "No! No, I don't. I don't! STOP!"

  His face looms closer, his breath hot against her face as his weight crushes against her. She continues to struggle, pushing away and beating against his chest as she turns her face from side-to-side.

  "No! Get off. . ." she chokes out.

  Pain--oh how I remembered that pain--She screams, and he beats her across the face until the darkness beckons.

  My eyes flashed open at the rough shake, and my burning eyes focused on Marshal's silver gaze. I choked on a sob and covered my face with my hands.

  "Ahndra, god damn it." Marshal drew my trembling body against him and again stroked my hair. "Stop reliving it."

  I shuddered against him, not knowing how to explain that I had to. I had to try and remember the truth. I had to.

  ...The young teen awakens in a muted state of minimal awareness, pain and misery the brightest facets of her world. She groans and pushes a leaden weight off of her, feeling the freedom in a tired and ragged portion of her mind and soul as she tumbles from the bed. Blood drips from her mouth and nose as every part of her body aches and cringes with pain.

  She delves deep into herself and summons the strength to push herself to her feet. The name Seifer drags her forward and out of the room. She staggers and stumbles down the hall, leaving a bloody trail and bloody fingerprints on the wall where she leans to rest. Still the name pushes her forward.

  Reality fades in and out as something within urges her out of the apartment and down the hall. She falls down more steps than she walks, clutching something against her for protection from the pain, but it doesn't work and that pain presses her onward.

  Strength depleted, she crumbles into a heap at the foot of the stairs to hear the familiar clump of booted feet and the muted sound of two voices.

  ...darkness swallows everything...

  ...darkness and fog... muted voices... I push through the slush and sludge to those voices, trying to hear. Trying to remember so that I can beat back the insanity to the peace I want... so bad...

  "Damn it, Seifer. Why haven't you dragged her off to Balamb?"

  ...Marshal's voice...

  "I've tried, but she won't go!"

  "Why the hell not? Look what he did to her!"

  Rustle of clothes and a slam of a body against the wall. "God damn it I can see what he did! But it doesn't change that she won't leave, and I can't force her to do anything! He's her legal guardian, asshole! He's got to give her his god damned permission before Cid'll accept her!"

  ...darkness begins to push in, and I try to fight it back. It wins in the end... the darkness always wins...

  I drew in a ragged breath. A surrounding warmth moved slightly, drawing me closer than I had ever been to anyone. Marshal had been there. And the rediscovered fact stole away some of the panic that I might have drifted into insanity. I had just blocked the memory of that first rape. To preserve what little peace I had. All I had let myself remember was the clearest vision: Seifer. Marshal had just been a voice. A voice which I only now recognized.

  But then why did I remember him pressing me to move to Dollet if he hadn't been there? I didn't understand why I remembered it now and not before. If he had truly been there I should have relived the nightmare all these years.

  "Why? Why?" I whispered, and I co
uld barely hear myself.

  I heard a whispered "Shh." and then a caress of lips on the skin of my face. "Try to sleep, Ana. Please."

  But how could I sleep when the nightmares couldn't be trusted. They presented a twisted picture. I needed facts. Truths. Certainties. If I didn't get those, I would go mad.