But the darkness was always there, lurking just out of sight, hiding in the shadows, waiting for her to succumb and start the vicious cycle once again. It was exhausting.
Craig was taking good care of her, but all she really wanted was to go home. Craig would hear nothing of it. She was safer here, he insisted, away from all the ‘negative influences’. It was clear by now that Craig was quite well aware of the fact that Corinne didn’t like him hanging around Lacie so much, and had alluded to that fact more than once. And they both knew what he thought about Shane’s influence. She’d learned not to mention Shane’s name; it only agitated Craig and made things more difficult.
No, her best option was to bide her time and try to get better. The only way she would be leaving this place was by her own power or on a stretcher. Unfortunately, with each passing day the stretcher was looking like the likelier of the two. Something inside Craig had snapped, and she needed to get him some help. He refused to listen to reason, and actually believed that he was protecting her by keeping her here.
“Craig?” she called out feebly, wondering what was taking so long. He was probably making her tea. He often did after a meal, saying that it would help settle her stomach and relax her. It did. But right now, the last thing she wanted to do was fall asleep again. She still had chills from her last series of dark dreams. Unable to recall them clearly – as if her mind was shielding her, knowing it was beyond her ability to cope - she dreaded the idea of falling prey to them again.
A cold shiver ran up and down her spine, punctuating that last thought. She couldn’t dwell on those. It was best to focus on the here and now. If she could manage to stay awake and absorb a little more “reality”, she’d be better equipped to fight her unseen demons.
Taking deep, cleansing breaths – her ribs were feeling much improved – Lacie attempted to shed the residual fear of her dreams and concentrate on her body. Her head still ached, but it was a dull, manageable throb. Ribs, better. Hand, wrist, ankle – sore if flexed – but otherwise manageable. It was too bad her limbs weren’t listening to her. It seemed to take several minutes of concentration before she could get them to move the way she wanted them to.
With much effort, Lacie struggled to sit up. A wave of lightheadedness conspired with her protesting and underused muscles, but she clenched her teeth and breathed through it. There, she thought proudly. That wasn’t so bad.
Once she had silently celebrated her small triumph, gravity and her new position provided her with her next challenge: the increasingly urgent need to use the bathroom.
She called out again. Ah, hell, she thought when Craig still didn’t answer. She could do this. It wasn’t that big of a room. Surely she was capable of making it those few steps to the bathroom by herself. Craig had been helping her whenever she needed to get from point A to point B, but as long as she took it slow, kept one hand on something, it was totally do-able.
Feeling encouraged by the fact that she’d eaten twice today and managed to hold everything down (even if it was only a couple of spoonfuls of broth), she forced her legs over the sides of the bed, giving herself a moment to let the blood flow back into her feet. She winced a little at the pain in her ankle, but was glad for it. It felt like she had been numb for so long, and any little sensation – even the pins and needles firing up and down her calves, was welcome.
Her brief sense of accomplishment shattered quickly a few moments later when she attempted to stand. Apparently sitting up and standing up were vastly different. The room spun all around her; her stomach lurched sickeningly as she felt herself falling.
“Jesus Christ!” Craig shouted, lunging forward to catch her before she crumpled to the floor. “What the hell were you thinking?!”
“I just wanted to go to the bathroom,” she whined, encaged by Craig’s strong arms as he pulled her to him. Temporary panic overwhelmed her, dark shadows lurching up from her subconscious at the close contact. Suddenly she was thrown back into her nightmares, only this time she could move. She writhed and scratched with everything she had, struggling against the evil binding her.
The bindings tightened and squeezed even harder, encompassing her arms and her chest; then another heavy weight wrapped around her legs, subduing them, too, until she could do little more than gasp for breath.
“Fucking hell, Lacie, it’s me! It’s Craig!” he repeated over and over again until her screams died down into choking sobs. Entirely spent, her body went limp in his arms, nothing but dead weight against him.
“Craig?” she sniffled, her voice hoarse and thick.
“Oh, thank God,” he mumbled. “Yes, baby, yes. It’s me. Sssshh, baby, it’s okay, it’s okay,” he said, rocking her back and forth. “Jesus, Lacie, what the fuck was that all about?”
He loosened his grip just a little, shifting her into a cradle hold. “A nightmare, I think,” she finally answered.