Wake to Dream

Max grew quiet and Alice was desperate to fill the silence that fell between them.

“My father was a cruel bastard as well,” she offered, “except I wasn’t fortunate enough to escape his notice. He tried locking me away in places I couldn’t escape from, tried muffling my screams in hopes he could sleep through the night without being jostled awake by his freak of a daughter. But no matter what he did, I was always right there in his sight. Always the dumb child who didn’t know how to behave or stay quiet. It wasn’t my fault. I was sleeping most of the time. But that didn’t matter to him.” Her voice trailed off, her mind locked into a memory that she’d prefer to forget.

Max didn’t openly react to her statement. His head angled to the side, his hair brushing against his shoulder when his lips pulled up into a playful grin.

“I knew there was something familiar about you, Alice, something very much like me. It’s what draws me to you. We’re alike, you and I. Two very different backgrounds, but a shared trait that pulls us together.”

Nodding her head in agreement, she swallowed down the knot of memory that was always so thick in her throat.

“My mother didn’t know how to handle what my father was doing. She wasn’t strong enough to step in between, to stop him from tormenting me about something that wasn’t my fault. So, she did the only thing she could do: she kept me out of sight as much as possible when he was home.”

Alice looked up from the crane and their eyes met. “She had a garden in the yard around the house, and she forced me to learn all there was to know about caring for the plants that were out there. At first, I hated it. It was always so hot outside. But after a while, I grew to love it.” A tear slipped down her cheek. “It’s the one thing I miss about that house. I had to leave it behind when I left for school, and since then, I’ve never returned home.”

Tracing his finger along her cheek, he caught the tears that fell. “Never?”

She shook her head, swallowing again so that she could talk clearly around the pain her memories brought to the surface. “Never. My sister, Delilah, calls me often, but I rarely answer the phone.”

Slipping his finger beneath her chin, he tilted her face up to look at him. “What does your sister have to do with any of it?”

Alice sighed. “I was jealous of her. Jealous that she didn’t have to endure the same attention from my father. She was quiet, stayed out of the way. Hell, she still lives at that house with them even though she’s a grown woman now. I know she’s calling because she wants me to come home and mend my relationship with that man. So, instead of openly telling her it will never happen, that she doesn’t understand because she was never made a victim by him, I simply ignore the phone.”

Understanding flooded Max’ eyes. “Is that who kept calling you on the day we met? At the house where we met?”

Nodding her head, she blinked away a few more tears and pulled away from his touch. “Yes.”

Max was thoughtful for a few moments, his eyes studying her face, shrewd appraisal obvious behind the blue of his eyes.

"You're not a victim, you know? Not entirely. The truth is in your eyes, your body language. I’ll admit that I took one look at you in that ratty old house and with one glance, I knew you've been fighting your entire life."

Alice laughed, but the sound carried no humor. "You're wrong. I'm not a fighter."

His palms pressed against the black granite of the island, his voice low. "Am I?"

When she didn’t answer, Max spoke softly again. “It’s the fighter inside you that drew me to you in the first place.”

Glancing up at him, Alice’s brows knit together in question.

With measured steps, Max rounded the island to stand beside her before he explained, "You've seen darkness, experienced Hell...you've battled nightmares all your life. It's shaped you, molded you and set you apart from the majority. You are human, obviously, but your mind is not the same as the worthless sheep who fill our society. You don't care about the inane. You don't waste idle time discussing bullshit. You, of all people, understand what it is to be haunted by evil."

Drawing her into an embrace, Max rested his chin on the top of her head, his chest vibrating against her as he spoke next. “You have a new family now, Alice. We both do. And we’re all the other will ever need. I can’t take away the pain of what your father did to you, but I can give you a new haven. A place of your own in this house that you can escape to while I’m busy working or otherwise distracted.”

Pulling away from her, he locked his hands around her shoulders, remaining silent until she looked up at him.

“Would you like to see it?”

Sniffling, Alice reached up to brush more tears from her skin. Although reliving the memories had hurt, learning that Max could not only sympathize, but also understand what she went through, helped her feel closer to him than ever.

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