Why the Straight One? | Book 1 | bxb

Excerpt 2

A sick feeling of nausea settled in my stomach. That smell brought with it more emotions than I could process in that small amount of time. I felt my hands begin to shake, my breathing quicken, and my body began to feel clammy with sweat. 

He couldn't be here, could he? I looked around me in alarm, feeling small and helpless once again. He wasn't anywhere to be seen, but something told me that he was close by. Wasn't that the smell that had invaded my nostrils when he was forcing himself upon me? How could I forget something as distinctive as that?

I felt my vision shifting, and I had a hard time focusing on the room around me. I knew what was coming. I'd had flashbacks before. I also knew that I wanted to be alone when it happened. I didn't want pity or comfort, and I could let everyone know.

I had barely closed the door behind me when the flashback hit me with full force. I was struggling to get a away from him, but not struggling enough. And then i was giving up, like I always did, like I had been weak enough to do the one time it mattered.

Now I was alone, huddled in the corner of my room. Now I was hiding in the hallway, trying to pretend I was happy at my friends party when all I wanted to do was make him understand the horrors that I was trying to process.

Within moments, it was over, and I was left breathless and covered in sweat on the floor of our bedroom. I hauled myself into the bedroom and rinsed off my face, trying to pull myself together.

"What's wrong with me?" Dull, sleep deprived eyes stared back at me from the reflection in the mirror. They held no answer to the turmoil raging inside of me. I didn't have answers for anything anymore. Everything was falling apart, and I was barely managing to keep myself together.

"I thought I was over this. This was all gone." I muttered, gripping the edge of the countertop so tightly that my knuckles turned white.

The nightmares were back, followed by the inability to fall back a sleep. The fear. The jumping at every sound. The staring in utter terror at the bedroom door, mind filling with dread at the thought of who might come through it. It was all back.

I'd been through all this before. Thats the reason for my anger and frustration. Why was I weak enough to let this effect me all over again? At 16, I had stopped having nightmares. I had conditioned myself to push away any memories of that night. I had pushed all of it to the back of my mind, and now it was suddenly pushing itself to the front, stronger than before and I was no match.

"Hey, I've been looking for you, babe. What's-"
The door to the bedroom opened, and I turned sharply to look at it. Alex stopped mid-sentence, closing the door behind him softly.

"What's wrong?" He approached slowly, and only then did I realize that I was sweating. My hand shook as I ran it through my hair in a last, desperate attempt to maintain some semblance of composure.

"Nothing." But the quiver in my voice wasn't convincing either of us.

"Thomas. Tell me. What's wrong?" It was useless to try and pretend when I couldn't even control my own voice of the way my hands shook.

"What's wrong? Everything...everything's wrong, Alex. And I can't...I can't.." I gripped the countertop again, unsure of what I was trying to tell him, but hoping desperately that he would understand.

"Is this about the nightmares?" His voice was gentle and much closer than before.

"It's been so long. They shouldn't be coming back. Not now. Not this vividly."