The Boy Who Brought Me Back (Scömìche)(Completed)

Chapter 3

My nightmares become more and more frequent. Tonight, I have a nightmare so bad that Scott has to sit with me for almost two hours. All I can do is hug my knees to my chest and keep my eyes wide open to avoid seeing what I saw. Scott keeps asking me to tell him what it was about, but when I go to answer, the thought of it overwhelms me and I start sobbing again.

"Mitchie, I'm sorry. I don't know how to help you if I don't know what it was." I anxiously rub at one of the scars on my stomach and stare straight ahead. He is holding me to his side with one strong arm wrapped around my shoulders and my head resting on his. I am curled into a small ball against his side and am barely starting to feel at ease when a clap of thunder shakes the whole building. A loud scream escapes my throat and I bury my face in his shoulder, tears flowing freely again.

"It's okay. It was just thunder." Scott says quietly against my hair. My whole body is shaking violently and my stomach seriously threatens to empty itself. I pull out of his grip and sprint as quickly as I can, relying mostly on my right leg, to the bathroom just as I throw up nothing but acid. My anorexia has slowly been redeveloping. Whenever I eat anything, I feel sick and nothing is ever appealing, so I don't eat. Scott tries to make me, but it doesn't work.

*****

While I am kneeling over the toilet, Wyatt comes and rubs on me. Normally I let him, but this time I swat him away and he walks off with a perturbed meow. Acid keeps releasing itself from my stomach for almost half an hour and Scott stands by the door the whole time with a glass of water, waiting for when I need it. After wiping my face clean with a towel and sitting back against the wall, I take it and drink the whole thing in one gulp. My throat is too raw to speak, so I just pat the floor next to me. Scott sits down next to me and I return to my previous position. He wraps both arms around me as I lean into him. Weariness and pain make me fall into a sleep right there. I wake again shortly after with the same nightmare as before. I am alone on the bathroom floor when I begin to cry again. The light is off, as well as every other light in the apartment, and I try to cover my mouth and quiet myself down before I wake Scott, but it is too late. He rushes in, and I know that he just woke up because his hair is sticking out in several directions.

"I'm sorry." I say, trying to calm myself down, but the image of what I just saw, the pain of what I just felt, is too much for me to handle. It consumes my mind and forces me to cry and stare straight down; I can't make myself look at Scott.

"Don't apologize. I know you can't help it, and you know I can't help but worry about you." I try to smile, but stop quickly.

"I know. Thank you. I still can't figure out why you keep caring, even though I don't remember very much."

"Because we're best friends. Nothing can change that." A genuine smile comes to my lips this time and I look up as he sits down next to me again. We resume our previous position again and he falls asleep quickly. I, however, can barely blink without rushing to open my eyes again. Every time I close my eyes, I see my nightmare. I was looking down barrel of a gun; it was aimed right between my eyes. I was pleading with the faceless man who is holding it and I could hear his voice, but the words sounded like a different language. He lowered it, seeming to have changed his mind, but then in a split second, turned back toward me and fired it. I woke up in pain, and that was when I found Scott over me. After thinking about it nonstop until six in the morning - four hours - I begin to wonder if it was a memory, if the faceless man was my father. I wonder if it is the first glimpse of a memory, and I wonder if I should tell Scott. As if on cue, he sits up and I lean away, giving him a little space. Before he even stretches, he is looking me over to make sure that I'm okay. After I assure him that I'm fine, I stand up and leave him alone.