Warnette Short Stories

Bad Dreams and Sweet Moments

I'm back.
No no no no.
God no.
I'm back in the asylum.
Screams are cascading down the battered stone walls and the old window I used to spend days peering through, the simple piece of glass that helped me keep my sanity mostly intact, is now boarded up. I try desperately to punch through the wall, kick down the door, something, but all my efforts are in vain. I'm powerless against the prison of my past.

I drop to the floor in defeat when I notice something odd. There is a large oval mirror resting precariously in the right corner of the cell.
I'm mortified at the sight of my reflection.
A little girl curled into a tiny ball stares back at me. She looks weak and sad and her frail body is shaking so hard I wonder if she's freezing to death, but that's not the part that scares me. It's the sight of the blood splattered across her face and clothes that sends painful chills down my spine. I think I'm going to be sick.

I walk up to the mirror very slowly, approaching it as though it might be a savage animal. It's only until my toes are nearly touching the frame that the reflection finally shifts. The image of me stands up and walks away, making room for another person to enter the looking glass. I watch a beautifully polished boot enter the frame which is followed by a perfectly tailored suit and, lastly, a face with a large bullet hole leaking blood out of his forehead.
I scream. I scream so hard the world starts to shake.

***

"Juliette!" A voice calls from a distance. "Juliette!"
My eyes flutter open and close.
"JULIETTE!"
I sit up in bed so fast that I almost fall off the edge of the mattress. A hand wraps firmly around my arm, keeping me steady enough for me to scoot away from the edge of the bed.
"Juliette? Are you all right?"
I barely even acknowledge the voice that is speaking to me. I'm too busy trying to push my drenched hair away from my face, hoping that I'll stop shaking soon.
"Juliette?"
I turn slowly, blinking hard to make sure what I'm seeing is real.
"Yeah?"
Aaron looks at me so kindly, so softly that it makes my heart flutter in between my erratic heartbeats.
"Did you have another night terror?"
I turn away, avoiding his eyes.

I've been having the same nightmare every night since I shot Anderson. The same horrible, terrifying dream, but weirdly I still don't regret what I did, on one circumstance.

"Are you angry at me that I killed your dad?" I whisper so quietly it's barely audible.
Aaron hesitates for a moment before he wraps his arms around my shoulders and pulls me in close.
"My father," he whispers into my hair, "Was an abomination of a man. He deserved everything that came to him."
It doesn't go unnoticed that he technically didn't answer my question, but I can sense his sincerity, so I let it slide.

I sit there in his arms for a while, still shaken and still terrified, but at least I feel safe. He runs his fingers through my hair, and I match my breathing to the rhythm of his movements. Slow. Steady. Ever so meticulous. Just being near him makes me feel calmer. Everything about his mannerisms, the way he radiates confidence, makes me feel like nothing can ever hurt me when I'm with him.
It's my second favorite feeling.
My first is this.

He pulls my head towards his and lightly kisses me on the lips. It's more like a graze, honestly. The small contact leaves me longing for more so when he kisses me again, harder this time, I feel like I'm on fire. Like he's a match and I'm a candle and every single touch ignites a spark within me. I hold my breath, waiting for him to kiss me again like he usually does; fiercely and full of longing.
But he doesn't.

He kisses me so softly, so gently, that the only thing I feel is complete and utter love. I can feel the restraint it takes for him to keep his hands off my body, the movement of his chest shallow and quick.

I wrap my hands around his waist and pull myself closer, but he pushes me away. He kisses me on the lips lightly when I try to protest. It's my turn to push him away.
"Aaron?" I ask. "Why are you being so reserved?"
He pushes me lightly against the bed, forcing my head to gently rest against the pillow.
"You, my love, need to sleep. And as much as it pains me, that means tonight we must control ourselves."
I role my eyes at him. I'm about to argue back when he kisses me softly on the cheek. Then on my collarbone.

He creates a map out of my body, his lip marks the roads. He kisses along my arms, forming highways. My shoulders are oceans, and my neck is a forest. My entire body is covered in love and peace and... tranquility.
He was right.
The motions make me exhausted.
I close my eyes as the last bit of the tingly sensation circling throughout my body subsides. His gentleness lulls me to sleep slowly.

"Aaron?" I mumble.
"Yes, love?"
"I'm tired."
"I know," he says, chuckling lightly.
"Will you-" I hesitate. "Will you stay with me? In case I have another nightmare?"
"Juliette. It would take the world splitting in two for me to ever leave you."
And with that, I close my eyes and enter a dreamless sleep.

A lot of y'all said you wanted more fluff! Was this OK?