Chapter 6
Iwake up from a sleep haunted by Jonathan and his rotating room. I sigh while I caress my bare shoulder. My hands are trembling and my body is slick with sweat. I feel disgusting.
Sometimes the nightmares are realistic depictions of what happened to me.
But then other times it’s the monster taking a rusty axe to angel wings protruding from my back.
He starts ripping them from their sockets, draining the colour from my flesh.
Red blood flows down the back like a waterfall. It drips onto snow-white feathers.
As the feathers turn red, they are offered to me like a bouquet of flowers. The monster growls in a low tone, “Take this my lover. You’re mine because I want you. Take this as a sign of my love.”
Then, with his heavy, bloody hands, he grips onto my halo.
White light fills the spinning, dark room.
I feel the halo tug on my head as it begins to detach.
The pain makes me scream like a puppy having it’s stomach gutted.
There’s squeals of pain and I’m begging him to stop.
The halo finally detaches from my head, my hair matted with my own blood.
The room is dark now, the light inside me gone.
I don’t know why my memories haunt me like this. It ends with me waking up and crying in bed until I rot all day. I’m not doing this anymore.
Golden hour light streams through my window. Easels housing colourful canvas’ surround this bare room I find myself in. With a heavy head and heart, I slowly move to the edge of the bed, placing my head in my hands.
“It was just a dream, you’re safe,” I whisper to myself, my hands trembling. I look at them and rub the inside of my palm with my thumb. I count my ten fingers.
It was just a dream
It was just a dream
It was just a dream
Coming out of a nightmare, I need to remind myself it’s not real. I’d rather not have the nightmares, but if I’m going to have them then I may as well make sure they don’t ruin the rest of my day. I stand up and make my way to the wardrobe, taking out a pair of joggers and a plain white vest top.
I enter the living room, the smell of eggs and bacon fill my nose.
“Morning, Noah,” Kai says.
“Morning,” I say, my voice scratchy. I take a seat on the couch and notice a joint sitting in the ashtray.
“Can I steal some of this?” I ask, pointing to the ashtray.
Kai nods, so I light it and take a draw.
I let the smoke fill my lungs, then exhale.
A sigh of relief runs out my throat, causing Kai to come over.
He leans on the back of the couch before he speaks.
“You okay?”
“Yeah, just a bad dream.” Kai’s face contorts into something like pity. I don’t want pity, though, so I change the subject. “Is that eggs and bacon I smell?”
“Yeah, but not for you,” he laughs. I make the noise of a wounded pup as I look them in the eye, making my lip quiver.
“Okay, fine, maybe there is some for you.” I smile brightly and follow him into the kitchen, the joint hanging on my lips.
“Same dream?” Kai asks while he flips the bacon over. It sizzles as he presses a spatula against it. I look around for an ashtray, so Kai points to one on the windowsill. I flick the ash off the tip before I reply.
“Nope, this was a different one. Still a recurring one. I’m sick of it at this point,” I say before taking another draw. I pass it over to Kai after he wipes his hands.
“What was this one about? If you don’t mind me asking?” He takes a draw of the joint. We smoked weed occasionally when we were younger. It helps a lot when it comes to the nightmares. It calms me down in a way nothing else can. I didn’t know Kai still smoked it though.
“It was about a boy named Jonathan from Uni. Some metaphorical bullshit about him ripping off my angel wings,” I say, looking out the window as I speak. There is a bird on the bird feeder attached to the window. He starts plating up the food and we head to the couch.
“As in, he ripped your innocence away? What do you mean?” Kai asks, his body stiff. He passes the joint over as I begin to speak. I let out a sigh as it sinks in that I’m about to tell him this.
“Something happened to me when I was at uni,” I mumble, shaky hands raise the joint to my lips. I start to feel it calming my body, but my eyes become glassy.
“Fuck, this is hard,” I say as a tears threaten to drip down my cheeks. I continue smoking the joint, I’m probably hogging it but I think I need it for this conversation.
“He raped me,” I say, my voice as quiet as a mouse. Kai’s eyes widen. He doesn’t say anything. I mean, what do you really say to that? My eyes fill up with more tears before whimpers escape me. Kai gets up and pulls me into his shoulder.
“Fuck Noah, I’m so sorry,” he says, his voice shaky too.
We stay like that for a few minutes. I cry like a child into his shoulder while he rubs my back.
“What happened? Did you tell anyone?” He asks.
“I don’t really want to talk though the whole night. But no I didn’t tell anyone.”
“Why wouldn’t you tell someone? He should be locked up for doing that to you.”
“It was hard enough telling you about it never mind having to go to the police. They’d ask me all these questions and then I’d have to relive the whole night again.
I don’t want to do that, I just want to forget it happened.
But these fucking nightmares are driving me insane.
And I don’t know how I’m ever supposed to have sex with someone after this.
Thinking about undressing in front of someone and being vulnerable like that?
It makes me feel like I’m going to throw up,” I tell him.
He puts his hand over mine and looks straight into my eyes.
“Noah, some day someone will come along, someone who you’ll be able to trust one-hundred percent.
You’ll trust them enough to have sex with them, and it will be beautiful and consensual, okay?
And you don’t have to tell anyone, that’s always completely your own decision.
” He says, squeezing my hands. I wipe my eyes, my hands wet from the tears.
“I think you should go to therapy,” he tells me as we pull away.
I wipe my nose with a tissue I find on the coffee table.
“Where would I even go for that?”
“There’s a therapist like ten minutes away that I used to go to. He really helped me, I think you should think about going,” he tells me, and I nod in agreement.
“I think you’re right, I just… can’t keep going on like this,” I sigh, as I pick up the joint again.
“Part of the reason for coming home was so I could start living my life again. Maybe therapy is a step in the right direction,” I tell him.
I smoke until it’s only the roach left, so I press it against the bottom of the ashtray until it goes out.
“I’ll send you the address, okay? Now eat up before it goes cold,” he says with a smile, before standing up to empty the ashtray.
In the reflection of the kitchen window, his face is filled with so much blue that I regret saying anything.
I want to ask him about yesterday, but I don’t even know how to bring it up. Now doesn’t seem like the right time.