Gone with an Angel

Chapter Thirteen:

It was one- forty five a.m. I woke up in a cold sweat with the plush covers lying on a mound on the floor and the sheets tangled around my legs. Oh God, I thought. This must’ve meant the nightmares were back.

Ever since my mom died, and later on when Shaylee was abused into her coma, I got occasional marathon nightmares. Once they came, they usually didn't leave for at least a week. It was either of my mother being killed, or Shaylee being abused, or my own life horror stories. It all ended up the same, with me waking up to this cold, cruel world.

That time, I guessed it was sort of different. Instead of waking up with a slight twinge of fear because of my father being in the same house, I had the privilege to awake knowing I was safe, for now anyways. It all just seemed too good to be true.

I jumped out of bed and tip-toed across the chilly floor, on the quest towards the kitchen. I knew I wouldn't be getting to sleep for a while, so I figured a delayed midnight snack couldn't hurt.

I flicked the light switch on and continued to the fridge, not noticing anything else. I simply grabbed an apple, already munching, when I turned around for a little surprise. James was slumped in his chair, a bowl of cereal in front of him, and tired dark circles underneath his normally sparkling eyes

"James?" I cautiously asked, and he raised his head to meet my eyes. They were foggy for a few seconds, before he somehow managed to shake it and wake himself up enough to speak.

"Kris? What're you doing up?" His speech was slow, as though he couldn't even process what he, himself, was saying.

"I couldn't sleep. Coffee...?" I asked him, because really, I could not have a conversation with a guy who seemed hung-over.

"Please," he requested, and it seemed like he was struggling hard to fight for consciousness.

I passed the hot caffeinated drink toward his outstretched hands. One sip and he was back.

"Ah... " he breathed.

"What are you doing up?" I asked him as he took more sips of the coffee.

"Like you, I couldn't sleep either."

"Why?" I asked.

"You first."

"No, you first."

"Fine, same time," He suggested.

"Deal," I agreed.

"Nightmares," he said.

"Nightmares," I repeated.

We both simply nodded at each other, as though this wasn't surprising. Maybe it was a little, but I was more surprised that for once I could relate to someone.

"What were yours about?" I looked towards him and tried to make my voice sound comforting.

Silence stole all of the air in the room as I waited.

"Ty committing suicide," he finally answered, and I had no idea what to say. More silence, before he decided to continue on. "It starts off just a regular day. And when I leave him to go to sleep, and he's alone... It just, scares me, you know? I've heard such horror stories of people, especially kids, with mental disabilities who are tired of being made fun of, or just don't realize what they're doing. I know I'm here to help him, and not only would it be the ultimate failure for him to be dead; it would tear my heart in two. He's not just some job. He's my brother, and I love him. I have to protect him. In the nightmare, its night time, and he simply cuts himself up with a knife. I wake up to his mangled carcass..." He trails off, as tears slowly started to wipe down his cheeks.

"Oh, James..." I tried to whisper reassuringly as I reached forward to hold his hand, but he jerked it away.

"Sorry..." He sniffled, wiping the remaining tears from his eyes and taking another sip of coffee.

"Don't be," I tried to offer a smile, but it felt stiff and unconvincing. I hadn't smiled enough to learn the art of how to make people feel better.

"Well,” he shrugged. “What were yours about?" he asked, even though we both knew. I didn't answer, I just bit my bottom lip and he nodded knowingly.

"Aren't we just pathetic?" he asked me.

Again, I didn't answer. I just shook my head no. We weren't pathetic. We were strong, fighters, loving and saving. He was, anyways. I wanted to do something to repay him. Something, some how, some day. So as silence overtook the room again, and we both spaced out into our own thoughts, I thought "How could I repay him for all he's done?"

But what can you do, to save an angel from himself?