Nightmares

Ellie

In many ways, the cabin felt like home. Buried in snow and layers of white that allowed the walls to become filled with warmth. Maeve was healing more and more each day, and Joel’s smile appeared almost as frequent as the jokes she told. Ellie liked it here. Maybe she loved it here, with them.

 But at night, when they retreated to their separate rooms, she feared the time between dusk and dawn. She couldn’t sleep well now, not since David had controlled her dreams and haunted her nighttime stories. It would always be the same once she slipped into bed and tucked herself into the blankets. Maeve or Joel would check in with her, lingering by the door before wishing her one last goodnight, before she succumbed to darkness.

But it wasn’t dark, not at all. There were bright reds and oranges, a scorching heat and the feeling of scathing hands crawling over her skin. Her chest would feel tight, filled with panicked breaths that could barely escape her lips as she fought against him. David. He never changed in her nightmares, always stayed the same. Same beady eyes, same crooked teeth and horrific smile. It was the one thing her mind always conjured correctly; his face had embedded itself so deeply in her mind that she could never forget him.

The stench of smoke and blood mingled and mixed with the taste of copper as her lip dribbled with blood from her nose and from where her teeth dug into her lip. It felt real, and each night she returned, she feared this was her reality, that her life afterwards, the one in the cabin with Maeve and Joel- that life was the dream and this nightmare- the one she was trapped in with David… that was real. It felt real, too real. She felt his hands clamping over her thighs; she felt him, she heard him and his nasally voice and raspy growl that sent shivers down her spine.

She could never hear herself, though. Yet she knew she was screaming, crying, shouting. She wouldn’t go silent; she refused to go quietly, yet she never heard herself. She could feel her throat straining with the effort she placed into creating noise, yet there was nothing—just silence.

“Ellie,” his voice drawled, yet it was different, softer, yet his lips formed the words, and her body continued to shake beneath his.

“Ellie,” he spoke again, yet his hands weren’t grabbing and pulling; they were soft, almost kind, as they guided her hands away from him as she tried to swat and hit at his face. “Ellie, it’s okay. It’s just a nightmare,” the voice no longer sounded remotely like David as it soothed and became paired with hands that caressed and brushed her hair out of her swollen eyes.

“No,” her voice wobbled, “no, no, go away, please.”

“Ellie.” The voice soothed again before the image of David flickered, and now she no longer smelt smoke, she no longer felt the scorching warmth of fire and rage. She felt held, and her chest felt light as arms wrapped around her and pulled her against a warm body. It was a kind of warmth that differed greatly from that of a fire or from David’s unholy touch. This warmth, these hands, they felt safe.

“Ellie,” the voice whispered, “Ellie, open your eyes.”

She wanted to challenge the voice, argue against them for thinking she’d ever consider what they asked.

“Ellie, it’s me, it’s Maeve. Open your eyes, bug.”

The tension began to ease, and breathing became a possibility as she felt the hands against her, tender and calm as they held her tightly.

“That’s it, just breathe, focus on me, you’re safe, you’re okay.”

“Ma-maeve?” her voice croaked, the arms around her tightened.

“I’m here, I’m here, Ellie.”

A sob ripped itself from her chest before she turned in Maeve’s arms and pressed her face against her chest. Her hands gripped her shirt as her body trembled, shaking with the tendrils of her nightmare that lingered.

“It’s okay,” Maeve soothed, rubbing a hand over her back. “It’s okay, he’s gone, you’re okay, Ellie.”

“I- I—” she remembered now, she remembered what she did. The heavy weight of a blood-soaked knife that she’d used to kill her demon.

“Hey,” she whispered, “hey, look at me, Ellie.”

Blood, smoke, pain, anger. It hurt. All of it, and it never went away.

“Ellie,” Maeve murmured, pressing a kiss to her hairline. “Open your eyes, bug.”

Slowly, her hands uncurled around her shirt, and she pulled away, just enough so she could lift her head and crack open her eyes. And her lip wobbled as she saw Maeve. The guiding light to her struggles, the comfort to her misery.

“Maeve,” her voice rasped. Maeve smiled and swept her thumb beneath her eye, wiping away her tears.

“There you are,” she whispered. “You’re okay, you’re okay, Ellie.”

Her hands curled around her shirt once more as her face ruptured. Maeve’s face contorted before she pulled her closer and rested her chin over her head.

“Hey, hey, it’s okay, let it out, just let it out.”

And she did, she cried and sobbed into her shirt until tear splotches covered her shirt. She cried until her body no longer shook with tears and her throat could barely make a sound. And when her tears finally slowed, she sniffled and clung to her as a cub would to its mother.

“I- I’m sorry… I- I woke you.”

Maeve’s hand never wavered as it continued to run through her hair.

“Nonsense, you didn’t wake me.”

Ellie sniffled again and looked up, a mixture of guilt and uncertainty behind her eyes. Maeve smiled down at her.

“Honestly, you didn’t. I’m surprised you can’t hear Joel right now.”

Her brows furrowed as she looked toward her door, before she heard it. The faint sound of Joel snoring. Earlier that night, they’d found a bottle of wine, and Ellie had convinced them to let her join them whilst they drank.

“Yeah, see? Hard to sleep when a lawnmower is going off next to me,” she teases softly, and the more Ellie listens, the louder he seems to get. The noise is a mixture of rasping grunts and nasally breaths, but the image of him curled up in bed with his lips parted makes her lips twist and her tear-stained cheeks lift.

“He sounds like a chainsaw,” she commented, her voice still hoarse. Maeve laughed.

“Yeah, he does, god help me trying to sleep tonight.”

Ellie’s grip on her tightened at the thought of her leaving. It was silly and childish, but the nightmares were still lingering in the back of her mind. David’s hands were outstretched and ready to welcome her back as soon as she fell asleep. Maeve pressed another kiss to her hairline.

“Mind if I bunk in with you tonight? Help me get some sleep away from the freight train?”

Ellie twisted in her grip until she could press her face back into her chest.

“Sure,” she mumbled, feigning reluctance when she knew Maeve was only asking to reassure her. Maeve smiled; she felt it against her forehead.

“My hero, just don’t blame me if I steal your blankets,” she teased, and Ellie found herself smiling again.

“You wouldn’t,” she laughed. Maeve’s stomach rumbled with another bout of laughter.

“Maybe I’ll even steal your pillows too,” she teased, forcing Ellie to lift her head and glare. The sight was more pathetic than threatening, with puffy cheeks and red eyes, Maeve softened and brushed her damp hair out of her eyes. “Fine, you can keep your pillow, maybe I’ll share your blankets too.”

“How kind of you,” Ellie mumbled.

“I agree,” Maeve spoke before kissing her forehead. “Now close your eyes. I’m here, and I’m not going anywhere.”

Her body stiffened for a moment before she whispered, “And if the nightmare comes back?” Maeve hummed, rubbing soft circles into her back.

“I’ll be there to chase it away, every time.”

And she believed her.