Alice wondered for a brief moment what his secrets could be, but she lost that train of thought to the very real fear that he would reject her for her issues as violently as her father had rejected her.
Pushing that fear aside, she summoned the bravery to be honest. “I have night terrors, for one. Basically, that means I wake up screaming. Sometimes, I can’t remember why I was screaming, why my body was completely caught up in the fear I felt when it stopped and I was awake. And other times, I remember the nightmares. They’re awful and I don’t understand them, but they happen. Regularly.”
Inclining his head once to indicate that he understood, he said, “Screaming doesn’t bother me, Alice.”
Her brows knit together at the odd statement, but she pushed forward without giving it much thought.
“I also sleep walk, which is self-explanatory, except most people don’t really understand what it is like. For me, I go to sleep in one place and wake up in another. Sometimes at a doorway, and other times inside something or underneath it.” She laughed, the sound not quite humor. “I’ve woken up several times in a chest that sat at the foot of my bed. It felt like a coffin when I first opened my eyes and I wondered briefly if my father hadn’t followed through on his threat to bury me alive.”
Rolling his shoulders back, Max released a soft gust of air from his lungs, his eyes closing and opening slowly before locking back to hers. “Your father threatened you?”
She nodded. “That’s an entirely different story.” Peeling her eyes away from the anger she could see clearly in his, she said, “For another time.”
A few tense seconds passed before he said, “Go on. What else happens when you sleep?”
“Well, you can’t wake me during the sleepwalking. I strike out, apparently, and I injured several of my family members before they learned to just guide me gently back to bed. Beyond that, there’s the REM behavior disorder – or whatever it is Dr. Chance called it.” Her eyes met his again. “Basically, I fight a lot. I’ve been known to throw things, break things, punch and kick. Nobody would share a bed with me because of it and the worst that’s happened is that I wake up with bruises sometimes from where I’ve struck a bedside table or the headboard. But, if we are to share a bed, I assume that will be something you’ll have to watch out for.”
His lips twitched on a grin. “If I have to bind you and hold you in place, I will.” Reaching out to brush his fingers along the line of her jaw, he added, “For my own protection, of course.”
“No,” she answered, her head shaking at the distant memories his words had brought about. “My father tried that and all that happened was that I injured myself even worse.”
Max stood deathly quiet above her, his body perfectly still, and she looked up to see a mask of anger where an understanding expression had once been.
“Your father tied you up?”
She nodded. “And locked me in a closet, and other things. He said it was for my own safety, and so that he could get some sleep. But it never fixed anything or made it better. I just screamed louder.”
His hands tightened over the arms of her chair, the wood creaking like it would break into splinters beneath his hold. With a controlled voice, he asked, “Anything else?”
“The sleep paralysis,” she admitted on a frustrated voice. It was difficult to talk about all of her issues and lay them out for another person to see. “I think that is possibly the worst of it. Not for any person witnessing it, in fact, they wouldn’t know it was happening. That’s my own personal problem to suffer in silence.”
Thoughtful silence hovered between them, then, “What is that like? The paralysis?”
A shiver ran across her bones. “It’s awful. I wake up – mentally, at least – but I can’t move. Can’t open my eyes. Can’t do anything but lie there. A loud ringing happens in my head and, sometimes, I can feel myself floating. Images flash through my mind. Awful things like demons or monsters. I used to be so scared, but I got used to it through the years. Those faces don’t scare me anymore. Not like they used to.” Glancing up at him, she explained, “It’s the feeling of being completely helpless. Completely immobile and afraid.”
Seeking out her hands with his own, he pulled her fingers apart from one another to stop the way she’d been wringing them in her lap. Smoothing her palms over with his own, he spoke gently when he said, “I don’t know what it feels like to be helpless, Alice. But I promise you that you’re not alone.”
The urge to ask him what he meant by those words was at the forefront of her thoughts, but a timer buzzed at the very moment the question was on the tip of her tongue.
“Dinner was delicious, Max.”