RED ROOM [H.S]

25.

Suddenly we were in the clouds, surrounded by snippets of broken memories. Nothing lasted more than a few seconds, and I gasped. It was like the entire sky was a projection screen, and I was in my own personal horror movie.

Videos danced around me of my parents, though I couldn't see one of a young Sophia smiling. The crying, the yelling and the shouting boomed around me like thunder, and it made me fall to my knees, covering my ears with my hands.

"Make it stop," I pleaded to the little girl. She had her head raised as she stared up at the memories, her lips in a flat line. She looked numb. "I don't want this."

"You have to remember."

"I don't want too!" I shouted, refusing to look up. "I moved on from this. I can't go back. I don't want to remember any of this."

Her little laugh was chilling. It sent a shiver down my spine. I felt as if the videos were suddenly getting louder around me, demanding to be heard. "You haven't moved on. You need to heal from it, or your past will come back to haunt you."

"I am healed!" I screamed. I pushed my hands harder against my ears, wishing I could block out the sounds of the younger version of me crying. "I healed from this a long time ago."

The little girl's hand felt like acid as she touched my shoulder. I refused to look up, not wanting a sneak peak back into my past. "You need to heal and remember or you're going to break yourself. Your mind is fragile. You need to remember what happened during the storm."

I was jolted awake from my dream, gasping for air, just as the thunder roared outside of the motel room.

What a fucked up dream, I told myself, squeezing my eyes shut. I repeated it was just a dream over and over to myself before I pressed myself back down into the pillows.

My heart was racing, and I looked over at Harry, thankful he still seemed to be asleep despite my very loud awakening.

I swallowed nervously as the rain pelted down against the window. I hadn't felt this type of fear for a thunderstorm in a long time, and I cursed the stupid dream for making me stress over it again.

I blew out a breath of air that I didn't realise I was holding. The dream felt so real. It was scary how your mind could present different scenarios. I didn't even recognise the little girl as me. She just looked like some poor, dirty little girl.

The content of the dream was even weirder. The fact she kept repeating to me that I needed to remember freaked me out, even in my conscious state. I knew deep down there wasn't too much of a connection to what she was saying and to real life, but it made me wonder if there really was something that had happened during a thunderstorm to make me freak out about them when I was a child.
I frowned at the thought. No, that couldn't be. I had gotten over my fear of them pretty quickly. I had healed from the trauma of my childhood.

Sighing to myself, I stretched out my body in the small space that Harry wasn't overtaking, and bit back a groan. The aching pain from yesterday was slowly returning, and I had almost forgotten how painful good sex could end up being.

Last night was also something that I didn't want to think about. I had allowed Harry to sleep beside me in my post-orgasm state, too caught up in the delirious pleasure he brought me, to check up with the logical side of things.

I glanced over at his sleeping body, hating how I could admire how truly angelic he was while he slept peacefully. His face was pressed against his pillow, his arm tucked under it as he breathed through the small part of his mouth. He reminded me of art. So beautifully chaotic, you didn't know where to look.