Stephie Marsh (slinkster_ghoul) wrote in darker_london, @ 2018-03-05 12:12:00 |
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Entry tags: | peter kemp, stephie marsh, thomas littleton |
Nightmare buddies (Stephie, Thomas, Peter)
Stephie was dreaming about frantically trying to hide. She was trapped in the helicopter hangar running along the wall searching for a way out, but there was nothing, no doors, not even her helicopter to hide in. The roof of the hangar had been ripped off and everything was freezing and her whole body was already set with dread because she knew something terrible was going to happen.
She was also pregnant – heavily – and it rolled and jerked inside her when she stopped running, and wouldn’t stop, though she tried to put her hands on her stomach and press and calm and stop but the movements continued under her hand. She’d been here so for long, she’d been trying to hide and she’d been running for so long and the fear was overwhelming.
The terrible thing that was going to happen was Lyon and he was standing on top of the wall and he’d been watching her for a long time. Every time she looked up he was there but she could never look for longer than a second before her body gagged on the fear and on no no no it can't be and she had to look away.
Now slowly he flew to the ground and landed opposite Stephie’s corner, and began to walk just as slowly toward her and she couldn’t run, or hide, she could only wait and watch in horror as he got closer, and touched her cheek, then the scar on her arm which was closed over, because it had been years since he had her, but touched it to remind her what he could do – and then he lay a hand over her belly and she knew he’d found her again because of this.
And she screamed and lashed out at him to try and get him away from her even though she knew this was futile, she knew she was helpless and powerless against him, but she screamed, and she lashed out, and her hand slammed into the corner of the bedside drawers, the point of it hitting right between two of the bones in her hand and the pain it caused was more than strong enough to drag her out of sleep and dump her back into bed.
She was bolt upright, her body gasping for breath and her hand throbbing with pain tucked under her chin. It was dark and she was naked and she was alone and her fear was too high to know which one to deal with first – her hands dropped to her stomach and found it flat, and empty, and for a few long moment she could do nothing but sob, tearlessly.
Her mind replayed the dream, and she couldn’t stop it slipping back into the memories either. The visions she’d fully believed in. The pain. All the years that had passed since evaporated into nothing and she was right back at the beginning.
“Oh shit,” she whispered, and her words helped anchor her back into her body. “I’m here,” she told herself, like she was comforting Marie, her hands checking the scar on her arm, “I’m here, I’m here” checking her stomach again, checking her neck and her face and her thighs like these were boundaries of herself that she could no longer be sure of. She didn't touch her back; she wanted boundaries, but she didn't want to touch the scars his fingernails had made in her. “I’m here.”
She slapped on the light beside the bed. Thomas was definitely gone, and this bought another swell of panic. Her throat made a sound, choking, like she was going to throw up, and her stomach didn’t disagree that throwing up might be an excellent choice. Trying to repress the feeling, Stephie grabbed for her clothes and pulled them on, her hands shaking too much to be able to do up her bra so she swore again (almost crying, not quite crying) and left it and layered up her shirt and her hoodie and then a dressing gown over that, tying it tightly around her waist. She pulled her hood up too, anything to make more of a cocoon around herself.
Marie’s room was closest and Stephie checked on her first, because if Thomas was gone maybe everyone else was too – but Marie was still there, a little breathing lump covered in blankets, and Stephie hovered and shook in the doorway then moved on, checking Katya next, then James. All the kids were still here, still asleep. Stephie reminded herself out loud to breathe. Years had passed. She was a long way away from that old pain. Years had passed. Look how big James was now.
There was a thump as Coco got down from James’s bed and trotted toward her, and Stephie dropped to one knee and wrapped her arms around the big dog as she snuffled against Stephie’s ear, pushing her hood away from her head. Stephie pulled it back up immediately, and Coco contented herself with chewing on the hoodie strings instead. It was so normal, but Stephie’s whole body was still sick with fear. “Where’s Thomas?” she whispered to Coco, who wiggled her whole body, then trotted off down the hall. Stephie followed her, her arms clamped tight around her stomach (still nauseated with vivid horror) down the stairs to find him.