He placed me down on his bed, motioning for me to climb in. I sat there, keeping close to myself.
"Light's stay on?" He asked, nearing the switch.
I looked at the closet, "that'll be okay."
He opened the closet door about two inches and then looked back at me for approval. I nodded. "Is there a particular reason why you're scared of the dark?" He sat, pulling me closer to him, before leaning back against the headboard.
"There's always a reason."
I stiffened as he draped an arm around my waist. "Tell me yours."
I glanced back at him, his blue eyes soft, looking from my eyes and mouth... I didn't know how. Telling him this section of my life would bring more questions I didn't want to answer. That I couldn't answer.
"I don't know how," I whispered.
He shifted, "I'll help you. What happened?"
I looked down, opening my mouth but no words came.
"Violet, I don't know everything that happened, but telling someone about it could help you. You clearly have trauma and if you're wanting to heal from it, you have to talk. I want you to know you're safe. Whatever happened, those things can't get to you anymore. I wouldn't let it."
Safe? But did I feel safe? Did I feel comfortable enough to let my guard down and rest? To let my mind be at ease? To stop being so alert? So scared?
"I... can't."
He pulled me closer, tucking my hair back behind my ears. "Can you write it? I know you like writing?"
"I haven't tried."
"Then try. You don't have to now. I'll wait."
After some time, I finally laid down. He tucked me into his body, keeping me held tight in his arms. For a time, I felt like I couldn't breathe, but the more I laid there, and the more I heard the steady drum of his heart against my ear and the slow rise and fall of his chest, the more I relaxed. I felt okay, and I knew in that moment he would never hurt me.