Lately, you've been plagued with nightmares. Visions of horrible things, hallucinations threatening to snatch everything that's just in reach from your finger tips.
You sat in bed, knees drawn up to your chest and your heart beating hard against your chest as you look at the clock expecting it to go faster. You watch the hands move and try to keep calm as you slowly slip further into your sheets.
They're warm, and yet the thought of going to sleep in them is not comforting. It had been about four days since the incident between you and Peter, and ever since then, sleep has not come easily to you.
Proven by your eyebags and the way you stare at the ceiling longingly, praying that god will hear your cries and keep the nightmares away no matter how childish it seems.
The lights are on, you're far too afraid to turn them off after the night before. You remember having turned them off after getting out of the shower but while you were walking to your bed something pulled at your ankle from underneath your bed frame.
It had caused you to fall and drop the towel you had wrapped around yourself at the time, and your legs were yanked into the darkness until you felt a soft breath against your heat— much like a sigh. And then your eyes had flown open to see you had fallen asleep in the corner of your shower, steam suffocating you.
It was enough to bring you to leave the lights on and start taking cold showers, though it didn't do anything to stop the trepidation filling your core. Tainting your reason, and taunting you.
You were worried it began to affect your work, each time Brenner would come into your office asking for some child's medical records he would stare at you longer than necessary. His eyes lingering on yours before he'd leave with a nod.
You pulled the sheets up to your shoulders, laying on your side while curling in on yourself and staring at the wall across from you. The blank wall provoked nothing from you, your anxiety still buzzing safely in the pits of your stomach.
And suddenly you realized that you really missed Peter, and maybe if he was here this wouldn't be happening but that was besides the point.
The point was there had to be a reason for this, a logical reason. That's what you kept telling yourself to keep yourself somewhat sane, you weren't losing it. You were in your right mind and these hallucinations came from an outside source— they must have.
And then your lights flickered, you sat up quickly. Breathing heavily and looking around your room, too soon was the safety of the light torn from you and you were enveloped in darkness.
You could feel your heart harshly beating in your throat, and you swallowed thickly— hands tightening into fists and twisting the blanket that laid in your lap.
Your chest heaved as panic filled you, triggering your fight or flight and melting you down into a shaking worried mess. Suddenly you were forced onto your back, multiple figures stepping from the darkness.
You recognized them, each of them co-workers that had suddenly disappeared after Brenner catching word of misconduct from them all. You wheezed, going to pull yourself up into a sitting position when you were forced back down, the air in your lungs being forced out.
Their hands reached for you, holding you down onto your bed. Your ankles and wrists pinned as you struggled and screamed. A blood curdling sound that could leave anyone clutching their ears and yet you didn't stop.
You screamed and fought, feeling as if you were going to puke as pressure built up in your chest— you struggled to breath. Your back arching like a woman possessed as you yanked at your limbs, teeth baring as your fear turned into something wild. It turned into rage, and sizzled back down into being terrified far too fast.
The faces of your past co-workers disappeared and in their place you saw someone you wished to forget. You had been young and stupid, it wasn't your fault that night had gone so terribly wrong.
It was your best friend. Your dead best friend, Jess Rogers. You two had been driving home from a party— both of you rather drunk when the car crashed. You survived, she died and from what you could see..her wounds from that night didn't age well.
Her jaw hung loosely, only supported by a thick piece of muscle. Most of her flesh turned a sickly green and half of her skull missing. You stared, wide eyed and horrified as she brought her face closer to you. The meat of her head completely exposed due to her rotting skin, and you resisted the urge to scream or cry, or both.
You turned your head to the side, closing your eyes tightly. Then you felt a breath against your ear and you couldn't hold it in— you screamed. As loud as you could, you screamed, fighting until you were set free from the wretched hold that had kept you down.
You fell off your bed, scurrying to your feet and screeching as your hands were snagged and forced behind your back. Your knees gave out, and you were forced face down into your sheets.
Your cries were muffled as someone pressed against you from behind, and you turned your head just enough to catch a glimpse of blonde hair and blue eyes.
And then your eyes flew open, you gasped, dry heaving and struggling to catch your breath. Your lights were still on, you were on the floor and in the arms of someone. They smelt nice, and you hiccuped and wailed.
You bawled hard, holding onto the person for comfort. You couldn't handle this anymore, it was destroying you and you just wanted it to end. You didn't care how, you just wanted to be over with this.
You wished someone would kill you.
You tried to sit up straighter only to hit your head on something and hear a low groan. You drew back to see Peter, and you gasped immediately beginning to flail. He held onto you, and soon you relaxed. Too exhausted to fight any longer.
"What happened, dove?" You stared blankly at him before running your hands down your face and pinching your nose bridge. You didn't want him to call you that, in fact, you didn't want him at all.
But here he was, comforting you and making you feel warm and safe. It sickened you, and as you spoke your voice cracked.
"Nightmare." Is all you say, when you meet his eyes you notice that his nose is bleeding and you wonder if you did that when you hit him in the face while you were sitting up.
"Ah, so that's what that was." He hums, almost as if he is talking to himself. You raise an eyebrow, and he leans forward, his eyes flickering from yours to your lips.
You notice, of course you do. But you don't have the heart to tell him to stop, that you aren't in the mood and to be frank, you don't want him near you— the last part is a lie. As currently he is the only thing grounding you. "Why are you here? What do you mean and what do you want?"
He seems upset, and you frown when he scoffs lightly at you. You could really do without his condescending attitude right now. "I heard you while I was doing my rounds, you were screaming and I was worried so I checked on you. You kept hitting me and you even fell off of your bed."
You blush a bright crimson thinking about how embarrassing that must've looked. Peter tucks a strand of hair behind your ear, leaning closer and smiling. "I'm glad you're safe."
You don't want to kiss him back when his lips press against yours, in fact you don't want anything from him. He seems to notice when you don't move, and pulls back frowning gently.
"I helped you, I kept you safe. Don't you think you should repay me?"
He did protect you, he did stop the nightmares from getting to you. And this time, as he kisses you harder, you open your mouth slightly for him. He settles between your legs forcing you to spread them to accommodate his size.
You don't like this, you hate how warm you feel, how safe. Your lips slowly start to move in motion with his, and you feel him smile against you. You're not happy, you don't want this.
But you continue kissing him, going as far as to wrap your legs around his waist and wrapping your arms around his neck. He grinds harshly against you, and you moan quietly.
You don't owe him anything, all he has ever done is hurt you.
You pull back, and shake your head at his confused expression. "I'm..I'm sorry, Peter. I just, I want to be alone right now."
His lips pull into a sneer, and he yanks away from you aggressively— almost as if he has been burnt. He turns his back to you, fixing his hair and smoothing out his uniform and when he turns around to face you, his face is blank.
"Well then, I'll see you around, (Y/N)."
When you lay back down inside your bed, no nightmares plague you..but you can't sleep anyways. Guilt eating you up alive. When was life like this? When had it begun to revolve around wether or not he loved you?
Your eyes shift to the clock. You wish it would go faster.