Rich Bastard {mxm}

Nine.

"There's no point in talking about feelings. I have none that concern anyone else," -C.T

I felt a lot better once I took the medicine that Tara brought me. I felt a lot better and for the first time in a really long time, I was okay. 

But that feeling of relaxation and having a peaceful sense of mind instantly went away the moment I closed my eyes for the night. I knew it was coming—it always did. There was nothing different about what happened after it came because I always woke up the same way: screaming and scared out of my mind.

"You're just a little bastard," I struggled to breathe as a rough and angry voice boomed at me, the thick and firm hand wrapped around my throat, threatening to crush my windpipe. "What can you do?" I could only hear the sounds of my gasping and my hands scratching at the arm extending from my throat as I fought to breathe. It hurt—everything hurt. Tears were streaming down my cheeks, hitting the floor with an echo, reminding me of what I lost.

I tried to scream as my legs dangled in the air, my back pressed against the wall, an imprint that would remain forever, but not a single sound came out. It was as if I was mute and I could only stare in horror as my skin began to turn blue, the sound of my mother screaming being the last thing I could ever hear. 

I tried my hardest to move my legs, but I was frozen and with every single breath being sucked out of my body as I looked into those familiar brown eyes, ones filled with so much rage and promises of death as his grip got tighter and tighter. "Sterling!" I heard someone yell, but my eyes were slowly rolling to the back of my head and my hands were falling off his arm, a sign that I was welcoming his behavior. 

All because of her.

I woke up in my bed, screaming as I rolled around in the sheets, seeing nothing but those cold brown eyes and darkness. I started coughing, clenching my throat as panic began to surge through my body, my eyes darting around for help. I clawed uselessly at my neck, feeling like I was dying as the door to my room slammed open. "Hey, hey, Cheyenne!" My head brought into a chest as a hand began to rub my back.

"You're okay," The voice, whose I recognized as Tara's, whispered into my ear as I bit my lip, not wanting to expose myself or cry. "You're okay, Cheyenne," I didn't know why I wasn't on edge. It was probably because of the fact that I was only ever caught off guard when I was sleeping. Of course, I didn't have nightmares during the day, so I was always alert and ready.

I just didn't think that those memories would creep their way back on it on their wobbly legs, promises of grief, pain, and fear leaving their wrinkled lips. They burned their way into my mind like cigarettes searing their way into the skin, and it was evident that I was never going to be able to forget that night. 

The night that changed everything.

"It's okay. There's no need to feel scared," Tara put her chin on my head and I narrowed my eyes, unsure of what to do. "I'm here with you," I couldn't remember the last time someone said those words to me. I couldn't remember the last time someone willingly hugged me like this, and I found that I wasn't repulsed. 

With that being said, I still kept my mouth shut and my nonexistent feelings to myself.

"Go to sleep, Cheyenne," Tara said after she held me for a few more minutes. "You need it," I didn't want to go to sleep because I didn't want that nightmare to return, but my eyes were not winning this fight. They were drooping, sliding close if I so dared took a breath. "You are okay," That was the last thing that resonated in my brain before my head fell against the pillow for the final time that night.