Page 44 of Serena
This woman is such a contrast to the Serena I see every day. She does such a great job of masking her fears and her true self. There is no reason why she should. Regardless, I’ll push her to confront those fears, and if needed, I’ll help slay whatever they may be, but I can’t do that if she keeps secrets from me. As if reading my mind.
“I developed my phobia in the last year of college. It became so bad that I started going to therapy. The coping mechanisms do work, but in situations like today and a couple of weeks ago, well, it becomes debilitating,” she admits.
I continue to stroke her hair, and she continues to speak. “Sometimes I have nightmares that my body is being sliced open by a hunting knife. Other times, it’s a piece of glass cutting into my skin. They all end with me lying in a bed of shattered glass, with blood everywhere.”
She sounds so defeated. I lift and bring her to my chest, holding her tight.
“I’m here, and I’m not going anywhere,” I remind her. I’d move in, but that would definitely make her run or even move. After a couple of minutes, I hear the sound of her snoring. When I’m sure she won’t wake up, I move her to our bed. I take off her jeans and pull the cover over her, then I undress and get into bed. Fuck her no-cuddling rule. I keep her on my chest, not letting her go for a second.
“Hi, pretty girl. We’ve been looking for you.” I’m groggy, but I need to stay awake. My phone, where is it? I need to call my Yuri; I need to call someone.
“Looking for this?” he says, waving my phone in his hand. “Come on, pretty girl, let’s have some fun.” He smells strange. What’s that smell?
“Please let me go?” I feel his arms grab me tight. I can feel the wetness on my cheeks from the tears. It’s so hard to move and stay awake. “Please let me go,” I beg.
I’m trying to get away, but I feel so weak. He’s too strong. “Please.” Someone is holding me tight, but I need to get away from him. I need to run away.
“Serena.” I hear someone call my name. “Serena.” I hear it again. Is that Ian? I open my eyes. “I-I-Ian?”
“Yes, Hermosa. You were having a nightmare. I’m right here.” His hands are on the side of my face. Forcing me to look at him. "Take a deep breath, baby.”
I do as I’m told. My eyes catch the crimson running down his arms, which have deep, red markings on them. “Did I do that to you?” My hands are clammy, and sweat is trickling down my forehead.
“Yes, but don’t worry about it. It was worth it. I was holding you.”
“You were holding me?”
“Yes, and I’ll do it again. You did scare the shit out of me.”
“I’m-I’m sorry.” I don’t know what else to say.
“Don’t be sorry.” He pauses. “Do you want to talk about it?”
“No.” Just the thought of talking about it makes me lose my breath.
“What can I do?”
“Can you lie down with me, but no cuddling?”
“I can do that.” His tone is so soft, but I see the worry on his face.
I want to tell him about my nightmares, but I’m too embarrassed. What if he judges me or thinks I’m making things up? Others have thought so. I lie in bed facing him; he caresses me without holding me close. God, how fucked up am I? I don’t know when, but sleep overtakes me. This time, no nightmares.
The smellof pancakes wakes me up. I remember eating pizza at Ryan’s birthday party, but I’m starving. I head into the bathroom and wince when I look in the mirror. Damn, I look like shit. After a quick shower, I head to the kitchen. Ian’s standing by the kitchen island, chopping up some fruit. Is he wearing sweats? I watch him drink some of his coffee while trying to chop up a pineapple with my small kitchen knife. I can’t help but smile.
“Need any help?”
“Nope, if I can manage a pocketknife, I can manage this.” He laughs. I grab his coffee and take a sip. The man does have a sweet tooth.
“It smells delicious.”
“You were missing some ingredients, so I had Augustus pick up some things along with some clothes for me.”
“I’ll have to thank Gus for the groceries.”
“Don’t be a brat, sit down and eat.”
“Yes, sir.”
