The Hours We Have

chapter four

Late at night, I woke with a racing heart. 

Loud thunder boomed beyond my window, lightning illuminating my room, and I shrunk in on myself. I hated thunder, it was too loud. I sat upright in my bed, still clutching my comforter, but my body was trembling. 

When another crack of thunder sounded, I threw off my covers and headed to my door. I thought I had been getting better at handling my fear. I guess I was losing a grip on myself, as the past was resurfacing like a haunting shadow. I had grabbed my favorite grey blanket, the one that Mikeal gave me last Christmas, and I crept into the hallway. 

The house was eerily quiet, aside from the thunder that seemed to shake the walls, and I paused. When I was younger, I always went to Ezra. We both shared a fear of storms and we would huddle together beneath his comforter until the thunderstorm gave up or the early dawn let us know we were safe.

I glanced at his door and when I didn't see a light on, I figured he had outgrown his fear of storms, and I shook my head at my own childishness. I couldn't imagine he would happy in the slightest if I ended up in his room. Especially with how distant we had grown. 

Another flash of lightning sent me down the hall and I gently opened Julian's door. He was the brother I felt closest to, he was the one I trusted the most. I entered his darkroom and a flash of lightning illuminated his figure on the bed. I bit my lip, contemplating my decision, and then I found myself crawling onto the corner of his bed. He was under the covers and I was on top, wrapping my own blanket around me. 

I had never preferred physical contact. Maybe it was because I felt like if someone actually made me feel safe, I would crumble. A gentle gesture would shatter all the pieces I was hazardously gluing together for my wall--and I couldn't let myself break apart. However, just hearing the steady breathing of Julian's sleeping form calmed me. 

I focused on his breathing, grounding myself to reality, and I eventually forgot about the pesky thunderstorm declaring its victory over the skies tonight. I stared into the darkness for a long time, alone with my empty thoughts. I drifted off at some point without even realizing but I was abruptly woken when someone cried out. 

"No!" 

My eyes sprung open in alarm. 

It was still dark and I sat up when I saw the shaking body next to me. Julian was trembling in his sleep, his fists clenching his pillow as he was caught in a night terror. I knew he had them, we all did, for quite a few months after our parents died but he never breathed a word of the terrors resurfacing. I stopped thinking and moved. 

"Julian, wake up," I called out to him, and when his head flinched to the side, I touched his cheek, "Hey, open your eyes. Julian, listen to my voice." I tried to gently shake his shoulders but it only seemed to send him deeper into the terror. 

His eyelids fluttered and he whimpered, "Mom, Dad! Please!" 

When I knew he couldn't hear me, I drew my hand back and brought it across his face. Instantly, he sprung awake. I moved back as he nearly shoved me off the bed, and his chest heaved for stolen air. His teary eyes connected with mine through the dark. I didn't say anything, I didn't know what to say. 

Silent tears streaked down his cheeks, glinting in the dark, and with a shuddering breath, he buried his face in his hands. Trying to block out the terror, and I scooted a little closer in the process.  

I wasn't sure how to comfort him but he answered my unasked question when he suddenly reached out and drew me into him. I bit my lip and stayed quiet, awkwardly looping my arms around his waist while my chin rested on his collarbone. I hated that even after three years, he was still haunted in his sleep, and I couldn't do anything to change it.