28 | nightmare

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I thought things would slowly settle back into normality. I thought that since there was finally a face to pin the terror of the town to, that things would be easier.

But it wasn't. It felt like a giant wave could come at any moment and knock me off my feet and send me spinning. Spiraling. Flailing. And drowning.

I knew something still wasn't right. But I didn't know what.

Carol could feel it, too. And Layla only grew worse.

So it was no surprise when Carol finally broke one Friday evening.

"That's it!" She yelled from upstairs, slamming a door and click-clack-ing down the staircase. "We're moving. I cannot deal with this town anymore!"

Layla sat on the couch, legs curled up under her. A large sweater hanging off her shoulders and saying nothing in protest.

"What? Why?" I didn't like this town either, but there were still people here I care about. "We can't move again. We just moved here."

"There are bad people here!" Carol crossed her arms. "And after everything that's happened, I don't feel safe in this town."

"What's going on?" My dad walks in.

"We're moving. Again. I've just decided."

"What? Why?" He asks. "What happened?"

"What's happened? David, a murderer has gutted the entire town. He raped my daughter!" Carol yells. "We can't stay here any longer."

Layla hugs her knees at her mother's loud screaming and starts to cry.

I move closer to her on the couch and hug her as she cries.

"You're overreacting. He is behind bars now. There's no more danger." My dad insists.

"Don't tell me I'm overreacting!"

"Stop shouting at eachother. Don't you see you're upsetting Layla?" I interject.

Carol glances at her daughter and just shakes her head. "Don't be such a baby."

Everyone watches in shock, jaws dropped and all, as Carol stomps back up the staircase.

And for a moment I wonder if that woman has a caring bone in her body.

____________________

I try to read my book but the words just blend together. Like my thoughts. Yes, very much like my thoughts.

I blow my hair out of my face and stare up at the ceiling of Harry's bedroom.

This had become sort of our thing. Sleeping in late and waking up to nothing really to do. And we'd stay under the covers all day, reading or talking.

Because sometimes it was enough to just be able to reach over and know that the other person is there. Next to eachother in the messy, mismatched sheets.

But today I'm thinking about the one thing that hasn't left my mind for what feels like an eternity.

"What is it, baby?" Harry asks, sliding his arm across my bare stomach before pulling my only-half-clothed body closer to his.

I sigh, tracing my fingers over the inked patterns on his chest. Afraid that our days together could be numbered before I'm dragged across the country once again.

"Tell me." He whispers, pressing a kiss to my shoulder as his hand rests just below my bra. "Please?"

"Carol wants us to move again." I say.

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