The house was always the same. The familiar walls, creaky floor boards,the smell of something stale in the air. It was never a place where she wanted to be, she didn't have a choice.
She was younger, no more than 7 or 8 but she felt much smaller in the dream. More Vulnerable.
She could see it unfolding again, like a scene she couldn't escape. She was sitting on a couch, her favorite teddy bear in her hands,but her fingers trembled, as if her body knew before her mind.
Then there he was . He always appeared the same way — Too close. Too eager. His eyes, too bright, too watchful, and a smile that never quite met his eyes. He had that look in his eyes again, the same look he always gave her when no one was looking. The same look she had come to dread and fear.
" Come here," his voice was always low, too soft,the kind that made her skin crawl even in her sleep.
She hated it when it started like this. She wanted to say something, to move to scream at him to stop, but it was like her body was frozen, her lips sealed shut.
She could feel his breath against her neck, his touch too light, too soft , like it didn't belong there.
But she could never move, only laying there, waiting, begging silently for everything to be over soon. She never had the strength to scream.
It always happened like this. A thousand times before. She could feel it happen but there was nothing she could do to stop it, to stop…him. She wasn't strong enough to run away. Not strong enough to do anything but wait for it to pass, even now as she relived this memory as a dream. That was all it was. Nothing but a dream. And yet, she still felt as terrified as she was back then, as powerless to stop him. Even though she knew it was a dream, she couldn't bring herself to wake up.
Instead she stayed completely still as the minutes kept stretching on. She'd learned with time that it'd be over sooner if she just stayed still. When she thought she might escape, the scene looped. Over and over. His hands , his touch, his voice calling her name, everytime she tried to push him away, he only moved closer.
"Don't tell anyone," he would whisper, his breath hot against her ear, but she didn't know how to stop him. She didn't even know how to ask for help. She'd only nod and he would pat her head and call her a good girl. She was disgusted. By him and herself. She wished she'd said something. Anything. But she couldn't bring herself to. She was too afraid. Afraid of what he'd do to her if he found out.
She'd close her eyes, willing herself to wake up, but the dream would always bring her back to the same place, that same moment .
She would find herself on that couch, unable to move, and he would always be there — too close, too familiar , the weight of his presence a constant pressure against her chest.
The dream would end, but it was never the end. It wasn't over.
Each time she thought she might escape, the terror would return. Creep back in. She was always just a breath away from waking up, but it was never enough. The scene would simply loop again, the hands would touch her skin again, and she would be frozen again.
She woke up with a start, gasping for air, sheets tangled around her legs, sticky with sweat. Her heart was racing, thudding in her chest, loud enough to drown out the silence of the room. Her hands trembled as they gripped the edge of her bed, grounding herself in the present, trying to tell herself that she was safe, that he wasn't really here. But the feeling was still there. The fear. The shame.
Her mind tried to shake it off, but it clung to her like a shadow. The weight of it was unbearable, and no matter how many times she woke up from that dream, it felt the pat was never really gone. It was still there, hanging over her, reminding her that some parts of herself would always remain broken.
The dream always ended the same way. Unfinished.
She sat up in bed, rubbing her eyes and trying to make sense of the overwhelming that had followed her from sleep into the waking world. The silence in her room was deafening, as if the walls were closing in on her, suffocating her in the stillness. Her chest felt tight, like she was holding her breath.
The dream would always linger. The past, too heavy, too raw, stayed with her. No matter how far away she moved from it,it always found its way back. She hadn't told anyone. She couldn't. No one would understand, and even if they did, it wouldn't change anything.
She glanced at the clock. Too early to be awake. Too late to go back to sleep.
She grabbed the nearest book from her bedside table, opening it to a random page, but the words were blurred by her eyes. Nothing made sense anymore. Nothing felt real.
Her body was still tense, still shaking, her fingers gripping around the edges of the pages, as if that might stop the thoughts from spiraling. As if it might stop the memories from flooding back. But the house, the smell, the touch — it was always there. Always lurking just beneath the surface.
She hated herself for being so weak, for letting it get to her.For letting him get to her, Control her. The truth is, she's terrified of him and she hated that about herself. But she couldn't help it. The only thing she could do was wait until the day started, until the world around her forced her to pretend that everything was fine.
It never was.