*Slow updates*
After agreeing to be the focus of a college article,
senior Charlie Murtaugh gets more than he bargains for when he's assigned a clueless sophomore who knows nothing about the sport.
...
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I haven't had a nightmare in weeks.
At first, I thought it was Schumacher's sleeping pills and his sometimes-not-attended-once-a-week-free-therapy sessions. However, after spending just a night away from Lorraine in a Connecticut hotel, I was quick to realise that it wasn't Schumacher's therapy or his horse pills.
It was Lorraine. The brown eyed brunette I knew shit about a year ago.
My nightmares stopped the first night we had sex. And I haven't had another ever since. It was a startling realisation, one that made it hard to think—hard to breathe, even—because I have lived the better part of my life trying not to need anybody or depend on anyone for matters of the mind. So it was crazy that a girl who wasn't in my life a year ago was the magical solution to the torture that plagued my soul almost every night when I should be sleeping.
Okay, I wasn't so delusional to think that Lorraine possessed magical abilities that made my delinquent nightmares stop permanently—it wasn't even a thought that I was willing to embrace or accept. But when I saw her earlier that night, sitting in my bed, in my room, waiting for me—I simply couldn't let her go. Nightmare or not. I wanted her there.
And nothing could have terrified me more.
Other than the lucid dream I now seem to be having, despite feeling the heaviness of Lorraine as she's sprawled on my chest.
F*ck.
The reasonable part of me knew Lorraine wasn't the magic solution but as I lay here now, feeling the soft inhale and exhale of her breath, I know that a part of me secretly wished she was. A part of me secretly wished that I had a valid excuse for keeping her around—a reasonable excuse for why I'm becoming so f*cking attached, a reason why I find myself thinking about her at the most random times or why it's so important to me to see her smile, hear her laugh.
F*ck.
It's just not that simple. It can't be—nothing ever was. Everything is always complicated when it comes to my life. Even my dreams.
As usual, I'm very aware of my surroundings. Lorraine is sleeping peacefully next to me, me with my arms around her, but in my head, I can see the chaos unfolding. The scenes are all too real and I already know how it's going to play out. The dream is always the same.
I'm tied to a chair and I can't stand up. I'm forced to relive the same events. My mom finding out about my dad's other family. Her relapse. Robin's death. My accident. It's the same f*cking thing, over and over. And I can't get out.
"Charlie?" I know it's Lorraine's voice, but I can't bring myself to open my eyes. I knew she was bound to wake up with how I'm writhing around the bed and digging my hands into her skin. Unintentionally.I can't get out of the dream. I'm f*cking terrified and my heart is racing a mile a minute. "Charlie wake up."
