“Ax! Axle!” Ana’s voice floats through the nightmare and I shoot up awake. My entire body is covered in sweat and my heart is like a jackhammer in my chest. Violence and death course through my veins, a sirens call reminding me of what I was.
“It’s okay, baby, it was just a dream.”
I look and see her sitting up beside me, absently rubbing her leg with a concerned expression on her face. I notice she doesn’t touch me, just sits back and watches. My mind is torn with wanting to hold her close and needing to fucking hit something. I never want to hurt her, but I don’t trust my own body right now, so I stay still.
Fuck. I fucking hate these dreams.
“You were dreaming about your mom weren’t you,” Ana says, a statement more than a question. My body tenses just like it always does when someone mentions my mom, but when Ana does it, it’s because she cares. I’ve woken up like this too many nights now, and this is the first time Ana’s acknowledged what it’s about.
My voice feels caught in my throat so all I can manage is a short nod in acknowledgement. She seems to understand this and pushes her hand out between us on the bed so it’s a few inches from mine. Within reach, but not touching. Letting me know she’s there, when I’m ready.
More than the old itch of wanting to cut, I feel the new urge to hold Ana tight and not let go. It grates my soul to know that this is just my response to panic, fear and emotion in general.
For several minutes neither of us say anything, Ana waiting patiently for me to calm down. The fact that the nightmare tonight was significantly worse in light of today’s bullshit isn’t lost on me. I can’t lose Ana like I did my mom. I look over to her and her beautiful, tired face. The sort of rage I feel when I think of seeing my dead mom is calming, the dream slowing fading from my view.
“Come here,” I finally say roughly, opening my arms so she can crawl into them. She smiles at me and obliges me and we both sigh in contentment. Before I can finish thinking that I’m grateful she’s dropping it, she opens her mouth again.
“Tell me about your dream,” she says, not moving from her place lying on my chest. I’m sure she can feel my heart beat faster.
I don’t want to talk about this. Not with her. Not with anyone.
“It’ll help if you talk about it,” she continues, her tone light and not probing.
I sigh and bring my free hand up to rub my face.
“It’s just the same old shit,” I tell her, not ready to admit that it was her in my dream this time. I’m not stupid, I get the parallel between Ana and my mom. That doesn’t mean I’m going to admit it out loud though. “Just seeing my mom’s body and shit.”
Ana doesn’t say anything, but I feel her arms squeeze just a touch tighter. I’m grateful for her silence. She knows me better than I give her credit for. Eventually she falls asleep lying on my chest, her soft snores filling the air.
I hold her close, savoring her small warm body wrapped up in mine, but I don’t sleep again. Once in a while I bring a hand down and lightly brush her cheek and each time, I am rewarded with a small smile. It only hardens my resolve to keep her safe. She tries to act so strong and sure, but I see the cracks and uncertainty. She really thinks I am going to let the fucking inmates give her up.
I failed my mama all those years ago, but I won’t fail her.
Twenty One
Ana
Amanly and welcome smell fills my senses as I wake up. Pulling my head up, I blink a few times and smile up at Ax who is still holding me. I didn’t mean to fall asleep, but he’s a damn good pillow.
“Morning,” I rasp, coughing to clear my throat, “Did you sleep okay?” His eyes look bloodshot and tired and there are bags under them. I’m sure I don’t look a heck of a lot better, but I do know I slept really well on top of him.
“Yeah,” he says cryptically, before squeezing me to him and kissing my head. “I gotta get ready and get downstairs.”
I lay in the bed while I watch him get ready, my eyes scrutinizing him.
“What’s wrong?” I finally ask as he pulls a shirt over his head.
“Nothing,” he replies a little too quickly. “Just a lot to do today.”
I narrow my eyes at him, not believing it for a second. I really wish he would just talk to me. I know he’s not used to this relationship stuff, hell I’m not either, but it would make shit a lot easier if he would.
“So, what’s the plan then? When are we leaving?” I ask as I swing my legs over the side of the bed, stretching my arms up. “I can get us packed this morning.”
He’s leaning down to tie his heavy boots, a luxury in The Tomb, but pauses without looking at me. My heart starts to pump just a bit faster.
“Ana,” he says, still not turning to me. He almost never uses my name, so every fiber of my attention is on him. “I am going to try—we are going to try—but it might not be today.”
My eyes widen. I forgot he told me that last night. Shit. That didn’t really register before.