Calmly, Carefully, Completely by Falkner Tammy

Author:Falkner, Tammy [Falkner, Tammy]
Language: eng
Format: epub, azw3, mobi
Publisher: Night Shift Publishing
Published: 2013-11-25T18:30:00+00:00

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In my dream, I’m running toward the sound of Reagan’s voice. I can hear her clearly, but I can’t see her. I know it’s a dream, and dreams can be fucked up, so I’m not panicking. But she is. She’s clearly upset, and I look for her everywhere in the mist. I can’t find her. Suddenly, I’m jerked from my dream and find myself lying beside Reagan in the barn where we fell asleep. She’s making choked little cries from the back of her throat. I look down at her. She’s the one dreaming. Her eyes are squeezed shut and she has curled herself into a ball. When we fell asleep, she was draped across me. When did she scoot away?

“Reagan,” I coo softly. She flinches and bats at my hand. She’s still dreaming, and I don’t know how to pull her out of it. “Reagan,” I say with more force. Her eyes blink open as she slowly wakes. She bats her lashes at me as I look down into her face. She’s breathing hard, but she quickly calms.

“I was dreaming,” she says. She looks around and settles back against the blanket, her body softening.

“Bad dream?” I ask.

She nods. I roll onto my side and rest my head in my hand so I can look down at her. She scoots closer to me, and I drape my arm around her waist. “Sorry,” she murmurs.

I tug her waist, pulling her to me. “Don’t be,” I say.

“I used to take medication to help with the dreams, but they made my head foggy so I stopped them.” She looks up at me, her green eyes blinking slowly. “Sometimes I don’t sleep well.”

I brush her hair back from her face. “You dream about what happened that night?” I ask.

“Sometimes.” She looks away and avoids my gaze. She doesn’t want to talk about it, apparently.

I want to ask questions, but I don’t want to bring it all back up for her if she has pushed it from the forefront of her mind. “Do you relive it in your dreams?” I ask.

She shakes her head. “Not the rape, specifically,” she says. She says it like it’s such a common word. My gut clenches. “I dream more about the feelings. Regret, mainly.”

“What do you regret?” I ask.

She looks up at me, almost like she’s seeking a connection with me, and I like it. I fucking love it. “I regret going to that party,” she says. “I should have been in my dorm studying.”

“Did you know him?” I ask. “Or was he a stranger?”

“I had never met him. That’s why I feel so stupid over it. I never should have been alone with him in the bathroom. Alone with a man I didn’t know.” She heaves a sigh. “One minute he’s kissing me, and then I’m calling out to stop because it just doesn’t feel right. But he wouldn’t.”

She shivers, and I want to draw her inside me and protect her. A tear slips from the corner of her eye and tracks down her temple.

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