Bad Company

Never Enough - Part 2

Dannie's fingers nimbly wove through my hair, her voice a soft droning in the background of my fading consciousness. We were in the back office where I was resting on the couch with Dannie curled up in one of the cushioned corners, my head resting on her lap. My hands were tucked tightly beneath my chin, and my legs were drawn into my chest. It was moments like these where Dannie was more of a sister than a best friend, and I loved her for it because she would always be ready to comfort me when I needed it.

It didn't take long for my eyes to slip closed, but a gentle tug on my hair had my eyes cracking open just a hairsbreadth to meet Dannie's. Her eyebrows scrunched in worry as she murmured, "Hey, I have to get back to work, but why don't you try to get some more sleep before everyone shows up in an hour or so?" Wait. More sleep? Hadn't I only closed my eyes a second ago? "I keep an extra pillow and blanket in the closet; I'll grab them for you. C'mon, lift your head."

I groaned lowly and defiantly closed my eyes again, snuggling deeper into the couch, but, despite my efforts, Dannie lifted my head so she could scoot off the couch. I didn't bother to watch her, but I could hear her hard-soled Converse mutedly tapping on the wooden floors. It was a rhythmic sound that sent an odd sense of satisfaction through my weary body.

After two days of no medically-induced sleep to combat the scarring dreams, I came to the unfortunate realization that my nightmares were taking a devastating toll on my health. Horribly vivid images of my own death flashed before my eyes in various manners each night like a broken record skipping endlessly on repeat.

Sleeplessness thickly clouded my thoughts, and I barely registered Dannie's hands slipping a soft pillow beneath my head, but I didn't miss the heat that suddenly encompassed me as the thick blanket settled over my frame.

"Don't be afraid to get me if you need anything," Dannie whispered quietly before turning off the lights and shutting the door. At least, I assumed she whispered. She could have been screaming at the top of her lungs for all I knew, and I probably still would have registered it as a hushed noise.

***

Deep laughter echoed tauntingly through my head as a terrified scream ripped from my chest. My body rolled sideways off of the couch, and a resounding smack rang in my ears as the wooden floor collided with my cheek. Unnervingly, I couldn't manage even the slightest reaction to the pain. In fact, I couldn't even focus on the fact that I wasn't dreaming anymore as my limbs flailed defensively around me in the darkness, prepared to fight off anyone who dared to touch me.

The office door slammed open almost immediately after my startled yell, and a blackened figure loomed menacingly in the doorway. I could tell from the way they stood that the person was clearly male, a fact that only brought another screaming fit to my lips.

Salty tears slipped between my parted lips like bitter pills being forced down my throat, but I didn't want to taste the fear that I knew was evident on my face because simply experiencing that raw emotion was bad enough. Yet, I was subjected to the hideous bite of salt on my tongue despite my unspoken plea.

The figure was by my side in four long strides, but God forbid I let him kill me without a fight. As the person made a motion to crouch beside me, I threw both of my legs up and slammed my feet against his solidly built chest, spewing vicious threats in a flurry of colorful words.

"Don't you fucking touch me, you sick bastard! Somebody, help me! Help me! He's gonna kill me!" Every word felt as if someone was taking a cheese grater to my throat, yet I absolutely refused to quit fighting. Sure, he had the upper hand by surprising me in the dark, but I would kill myself before allowing him the opportunity to do it first.