Chasing Shadows | ✓

Chapter Thirty-Two

WITH MORNING, CAME THE TIME TO TALK.

Despite thinking I would be able to avoid it, Natalia was sat at the kitchen table, her arms crossed and ready to talk. Keeping a passive expression on my face, I walked by her, grabbing a small mug off the table.

"Morning," I said, my back to her as I filled it up with coffee. There was still a slight tremor in my hands from the previous night, but I tried to hide it while clenching my hand tighter around the cup.

"How did you sleep?" She asked softly, when I leaned against the counter, facing her. She tilted her head to the side while she examined me. I squirmed, feeling the intensity of her stare.

"Good," I choked out, not wanting to admit that I spent the rest of the night staring at the ceiling, unable to fall back asleep. Dark purple bags ringed my under-eyes but I hoped that she wouldn't notice. My tiredness had my shoulders drooping over, dragging my feet against the floor. I felt like every muscle was giving into gravity and my hand shot out to support myself against the table. My head felt foggy, like whenever I drowned myself in alcohol, but this time, I hadn't drunk a drop.

"Pretty good. Yeah."

"Really?" she asked, unknowingly raising her brow. I knew she saw right through my lie, but I kept my face blank.

I coughed, clearing my throat, "Yeah. Hey, so I should probably go before everyone wakes up -"

"Trevor," she blinked, shooting me a defiant gaze. Natalia pulled out the seat beside her and gestured for me to take a seat, "Come on. I think we need to talk."

"I don't think so?" my voice raised in pitch as I pretended to look confused, "I don't know what you're talking about."

She pursed her lips tightly, "What happened last night wasn't normal."

"It was a once off," I lied, rolling my eyes, "Everyone can have bad dreams."

"Was it just a bad dream though?" she challenged, the lines on her face etching in worry, "I'm worried about you. . . I mean you threw up, Trevor. How many people do that after a 'bad dream?'"

Just as I was about to argue, I stopped myself.  Averting my eyes to the floor, a part of me knew she was right. For how many more years was I going to torture myself with these nightmares? How many more nights was I going to wake up, nearly choking on my own vomit? Every night was a futile tussle of conflicting thoughts. Thoughts that I couldn't seem to control.

My teeth began to chatter, but it wasn't from the cold. I inhaled deeply, trying to calm the nervous buzzing in my body but it seemed no matter what I did, I had no control over myself anymore. It was terrifying; taking a step forward when I had no idea where my foot would fall.

I was scared to tell her; for when the old fears surfaced, running through my head, all I wanted to do was bolt for the door. When the mocking, taunting laughter of Father and of other kids filled my head; when the past memories snapped any confidence I had left in half, I wanted to curl back into my dark corner.

But I didn't.

"I saw you," I whispered, finally confessing while my voice broke at the end, "In my dream."

Natalia's brows knitted together in confusion and a tense silence filled the kitchen, "What?"

My palms were sweaty and the adrenaline coursing through my veins was shutting down his ability to think logically. Wiping my hands on the sides of my jeans, I took a calming breath, trying to explain.

"I'm sure you heard about what happened to my Mom," I murmured, swallowing the lump in my throat, "I mean, they had it plastered all over the news. Even now, whenever there's anything at all related to a fire, they always seem to be able to mention her in the article."