The Bet // Niall Horan

31 - Nightmares

"Where my heart is there's never a home. These wooden doors are closed and this prison's cold."

Vapor - Vancouver Sleep Clinic

Listen to this song while reading the chapter. Maybe it's just me but it made me feel some type of way.

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His back was facing me but the tears were making it harder for me to make out his figure. The only thing I was sure of was that he was walking away. Away from everything we had ever been through. Every look, every conversation, every kiss, everything. It was as if from the very moment we met, everything was a lie. None of it ever meant anything and I was seeing it for the first time.

The pain in my lower abdomen was nothing compared to the slow, agonizing pain in my heart. Each memory that flashed through my mind made the pain worse. It was as though the blood seeping through my thin shirt was coming from my heart and not from the pierced skin.

It had taken me two and a half years to finally see what little I meant to him. And that pain was so much worse than the knife.

"Carter."

It was no longer the tears blurring my vision, but rather the loss of blood. I was slowly slipping into a dangerous state. I couldn't see where the voice was coming from.

"Carter, you need to wake up."

I couldn't move. I was frozen.

Dying.

"Carter!" The low voice boomed from beside my bed, waking me up from my nightmare.

No, not a nightmare. A memory.

"You're burning up, I'm going to get you some water. Take these blankets off." Mason ordered but had worry laced in his tone. He turned and hurried out of the room. It took me a second to come out of my daze before I sat up slowly and threw the blankets off me. My hair was matted to the back of my neck and forehead, my tank top and shorts doing nothing to help me stay cool. I placed my hand on my side slowly, an instinct I have every time I wake up from the memory.

Sighing in relief, I threw my legs over the side of my bed and pushed myself up carefully, making sure I had my balance before walking over to put my hair up. Mason came back into the room just as I had gotten the wet hair off my neck. I looked at him through the mirror to find him holding the glass of water he had promised accompanied by a wary look. I sighed and turned to take the glass from his grasp, "I'm fine." He followed me to sit on my bed before replying, "you dreamt about him again didn't you?"

I wiped the back of my hand across my forehead feeling the unnatural high temperature. "It happens. I told you not to worry about it."

Mason pushed his hair back in annoyance, "I can't just not worry about it, Carter. Look what it does to you?" He motioned towards me and then my bed where traces of sweat were located. I hadn't realized how bad it had gotten this time. "It felt so real this time," I whispered.

He placed a hand gently on my back, rubbing soft and slow circles to keep me stable. "You remember what you said to me when Shay came home that day after seeing him in that doughnut shop?" I looked at him as he continued, "you said you're tired of being scared, tired of running. He can't hurt you anymore than he already did, Carter."