Her response is a snort and the jerk of her head as she cranes her neck toward the hand I have resting on the gate by her chest, looking for more sugar.
I’ve come out here in the middle of the night, after all the stable workers have gone home, hoping to see Eli sneaking around somewhere inside. I keep telling myself I’m only doing this so I can tell him once and for all to move on with his life and leave me alone, but I know that’s not true. I’m out here for one reason and one reason only—I want to get close to the fire. I want to fight with him and yell at him and feel alive and I don’t care how badly I get burned. I want to tell him I tore apart my mother’s office earlier tonight, looking for those stupid letters he claims he sent me, wondering if maybe she intercepted them and hid them from me, and tell him I didn’t find a single one. I want to see if he’ll keep going with that lie just to make me feel bad and to try and pull me back in under his spell.
It’s stupid and it’s pathetic, because I’m already under it. He cast that net around me through the television screen the day I found out he was still alive and there wasn’t a damn thing I could do to stop it. Everything inside me is at war, screaming at me to be careful, to protect him and get him as far away from me as possible, while at the same time, craving his touch and his lips on my skin and longing to hear him tell me again that he’s going to fight for me.
A loud thud sounds from behind me and down the hall, making my head jerk back to look over my shoulder in the direction it came from. I hold my breath and wait for another noise, hoping to God one of the workers isn’t still here. In my haste to get out of my bed and head to the stables, I didn’t bother throwing on a robe or covering myself up. I’m wearing a pink ribbed tank top with no bra and an old pair of gray cotton boy shorts left over from my dancing days. I’ve never walked out of the house in something like this, something that puts the scars covering my leg on full display, but it’s the middle of the night and I figured no one would be here.
My heart beats faster when I hear the sound again, followed by a strangled cry. Turning away from Ariel, I walk toward where it came from, pushing my bare feet up onto my toes as I go so I can move as quietly as possible. Stopping outside the closed tack room door in the middle of the long hall, I try to calm my racing heart as I stand here waiting for another noise. The silence on the other side of the door lasts long enough for me to wonder if I was hearing things and I drop my hand from the wood and start to move away, when a sound even louder and more painful rips from the other side and makes me jump.
Without thinking, I quickly grab the handle and fling the door open, stopping in the doorway when I see what’s inside.
With just the light of a small, antique lamp on a table in the corner of the room, I see someone lying on the hard, cement floor, curled up in a ball, wearing nothing but a pair of low-slung black cargo shorts with his naked back to me. A back that is littered with long, white scars, old burn marks, and other signs of abuse that bring tears to my eyes as soon as I see them.
“NO! LEAVE ME THE FUCK ALONE!”
I gasp when I hear Eli’s tortured voice shout from underneath his arms, which he has wrapped around his head. For a minute, I think he knows I’m standing here and he’s yelling at me, but I quickly realize he must be dreaming. His body starts to jerk and he curls himself up into an even tighter ball as he continues to shout and curse at something unknown.
“FUCK YOU! HIT ME AGAIN! I’M NOT TELLING YOU ANYTHING!”
Every thought I’ve had the last few days flies from my mind as I listen to him yell, watch him tuck his body in on itself, and continue to make slight jerking movements like he’s being repeatedly hit or kicked by whoever he’s dreaming about. Every irritation I have with him, every vow I made to push him away and be pissed at him for lying about those stupid letters, flies right out of my mind, knowing his dreams aren’t fantasy. They’re real, they’re memories, and even in sleep he can’t let go of what was done to him. Seeing him like this, watching him relive something so horrific and awful that he experienced every day for five years makes me forget everything. It makes me sick to my stomach that I yelled at him, pushed him, and did anything but speak to him with a soft, caring voice and shower him with the love and kindness that he missed out on for so long.
“FUCK YOU, YOU PIECE OF SHIT!”
His voice comes out strangled and full of so much pain that it almost brings me to my knees. I move quickly across the room, dropping down on my knees behind him and bringing my hand up to his back, pressing it softly against his warm skin so I don’t startle him. I just want him to wake up. I want this nightmare to end. I can’t stand seeing and hearing him in so much pain.
“Eli, wake up,” I whisper softly, trying to keep the tears out of my voice as I rub my hand in small circles against his spine.
I barely get the words out when he suddenly twists his body, vaults up from the floor, and tackles me. My back slams into the cold, hard ground and I feel the wind get knocked out of me when his body falls on top of mine, pinning me to the floor. He quickly grabs my arms when I try to push against his chest, wrapping both of my wrists tightly in one hand and yanking them up over my head to hold them above me. I gasp and cough as I struggle against him until I’m finally able to drag in air. My eyes fly up to his face, and even though it’s covered in shadows from the dimly lit lamp over in the corner, I can see the whites of his wide open eyes. They stare at my forehead, unblinking and unseeing. He’s still asleep even though his eyes are open. He doesn’t see me, he doesn’t know it’s me he just took down like a linebacker, the sting from hitting the ground still radiating up my spine as I tug on my arms to try and get them free.
“Fuck you,” he growls under his breath, his eyes still staring at my head.
I know those words aren’t meant for me, but they still break something apart inside me, knowing he’s lost in a nightmare and he’s angry and hurting. I want to touch his face, slide my fingers through his hair, and make him look at me, but I still can’t get my arms free. I need to wake him up and get him to look at me and see me.
“Eli, wake up,” I whisper again. “It’s me, it’s okay.”
He growls again, low in his throat, as he pushes the full length of his body harder against mine, making it unable for me to even wiggle or move an inch to get out from under him.
The only part of my body I can move is my head. I lift it up and lean it forward until my lips are right by his and I speak softly against his mouth.
“Wake up, Eli. It’s me. It’s Shelby.”
He grunts in pain, the grip he has on my wrists getting tighter as he continues to hold them in place above my head.