Full Strength

Twenty Six-Lillian ❤️‍🩹

        I sat up abruptly, breathing hard and shaking. A quick swipe across my forehead confirmed that I was sweating, my hair stuck to my face in damp strands. More bad dreams. Last night, I had actually slept, despite being curled up on the loveseat in the living room. Tonight I'd gone back to my bed after losing five rounds of Scrabble to Logan in a row.

        "Just a dream," I whispered to myself, sitting so my feet touched the floor. I needed to get up, wash my face, and then try going back to sleep.

        The door banged open. It was Logan, wearing his pajamas and standing on crutches. "Are you okay?" he asked, looking around the room as if expecting to see a wild animal.

        I covered my face with my hands. "I didn't mean to wake you up. And you're not supposed to be walking around with your leg uncovered!"

        He glanced down, unbothered by his bare, bruised flesh. "Seriously, are you okay? I heard you crying," he said, now looking at me.

        "I'm fine. Just can't sleep," I said, hoping I sounded stable enough to convince him that I was fine.

        Logan set his crutches against the wall and sat down next to me on the bed. "More bad dreams?" he asked softly.

        I nodded miserably. "It's okay. I can just go back to sleep."

        "That doesn't sound really fun."

        "Okay, maybe not," I admitted. "But there's not much I can do."

        "You could go see a doctor," he reminded me. "They could give you sleeping pills or something."

        "I don't really want pills," I said, squirming uncomfortably. "They're not good for you, even if they do mean I can sleep."

        "Maybe not pills then, but you need something," Logan said, lightly frowning. His expression was so concerned that I almost felt bad for him. "I'm not going to push you, but I'm seriously worried about you. It feels like every day you wake up exhausted and then at night, you don't want to go to bed."

        "I want to go to bed. I'm so tired," I mumbled, hugging myself.

        Logan looked at me for a moment, still worried, before saying, "Do you want to wash your face? Then we can try to get you to sleep."

        I nodded, sliding out of bed and going into the bathroom. This was so embarrassing, that I was keeping him awake like a toddler scared of the dark. I knew that he wanted to help, but it was nearly impossible to let him. 

        Cold water felt nice, even though my face looked red and puffy when I dried it with a towel. But I already felt a little bit better, so that was something. At least I felt cleaner. Walking back into the bedroom, I discovered that Logan had fluffed my sheets and pillows in my absence. When I gave him a stern look, he smiled and said, "Promise, I was careful. No weight on it."

        "Thank you," I said wearily, crawling under the covers.

        Logan stayed sitting on the other side of the bed, asking quietly, "Do you want me to stay for a bit?"

        I couldn't help but smile. "Are you asking if I want you to creepily watch me try to sleep?"

        "Yes, that's exactly what I'm asking," he whispered, grinning.

        "Okay, yes, you can creepily watch me try to sleep," I laughed, rolling over.

        The bed squished as Logan laid down, which was absolutely unacceptable. I immediately sat up, saying in a panic, "Your foot!"