The Fire In Me (Ryder) (COMPLETED) 1 ✔️

Chapter Fifty-Three Twelve O'clock

Impossible- Nightcore

     I jump awake, crying out from the pain I know isn't happening. Why did these dreams keep coming to me? Why did they have to wake me up like this? Tears run down my face as I bring my knees up and continue to cry. What else was I supposed to do? I was completely alone in a dark room. I can't sneak out because Dallas would hear me and wake up and go all mad and I don't want to deal with that right now. I don't want to deal with an angry Dallas any day.

     Actually, that's not true. Sometimes, I enjoy dealing with an angry Dallas. He can be fun to mess with, as long as nothing bad happens to me, of course. Otherwise, it's dumb. I shake my head, taking deep breaths trying to calm my racing heart. These dreams they're getting worse and worse. Dallas wants to hurt me in them. Dallas does hurt me in them. It's bad. It's scary. It's cruel. If it's not Dallas, it's Dexter wanting payback for me leaving him in the enemy's house, and if it's not either of them, it's Roscoe wanting more of me.

     The worst thing is, sometimes it's all of them, together, wanting to do different things to me. Different, awful things. I don't know how to make it stop. I don't think these dreams will ever stop and that's the really scary part of it all. What if they never stop? What if soon, I won't be able to tell the dreams from reality? What if, soon, I really think Dallas is hurting me? I really think all of them are hurting me? I still don't even know what happened to Dexter. Is he dead because of me? Or Roscoe. Is he still gone? For how long?

     What am I even supposed to do if he ever does come back? I shake my head. Don't think about it, Ryder. You don't need to think about that. When should I think about it? What happens if it happens and I don't know what to do? I need to know. Dallas can't always protect me no matter how much he wants to. I don't understand why he wants to or if he even still does want to, but he can't always be with me. Be watching over me. That's just not how life works. Sadly, it just doesn't. Life sucks that way.

     I hear a squeak come from the door and I jump looking up. Dallas was in the doorway, peeking his head in and looking at me. Why was he looking at me? Why was he in the doorway? Did he hear me? Is he coming to check on me? Dallas walks in all the way and closes the door which, for some reason, brings a smile to my face. He walks around to the other side of my bed and he gets in, getting under the covers and pulling the blankets up to his chest as I watch him wearily.

     He looks over at me and pats his chest, motioning for me to go to him, but I stay put, scared to move. Why was I so scared to move? Did I really think he was going to hurt me? Well, was Dallas going to hurt me? Why was he here in the first place? How could he hear me? I don't even think I am being loud. Was I being loud or was he just up and he happened to hear me? How in the world am I ever supposed to know? Dallas is such a confusing man to try to know.

     Suddenly images of how he's held me to him before flash in my head as I remember the warmth he gave. The comfortable feeling he gave. The way he made me feel safe even if he wasn't trying. Just how I feel when I'm with him in general. He sighs, not mad, sad, before he starts to sit up but I quickly move and lay my head on his chest, wrapping my arms around his waist and holding him tight, making sure this is real. It's definitely real, it feels so real. He hesitates but immediately recovers and lays back down wrapping his arms around me and pulling me closer to him, if even possible.

     "Did you have another bad dream?" He whispers into my hair and I nod against his chest. I don't want to speak. I don't want to risk saying something stupid that will make him mad and make him leave. I don't want him to leave. I don't want him to ever leave, but it isn't like I am going to tell him that. That's not who I am. I don't tell people how I feel. Hell, I still can't even tell what I'm feeling with Dallas. Well, I think I know, but I don't want to admit it. I mean, remember last time? He said it was a misunderstanding.