She woke up shivering and screaming. Just like every other night. Her hands were clammy; her nightgown was soaked in sweat. She sat cross-legged in a muddle of sheets and quilts, her curly hair in disarray – shivering and screaming. The bedside light was on, as always shedding a yellow glow all around. An eerie glow throwing exaggerated shadows on the walls. The curtains fluttering, her head with those corkscrew curls moving side to side on the empty wall was a sight.

The stillness and the silence of the night were broken by her sobs – heart wrenching sobs. Sobs raked her body; she gulped air to stop those sobs. She was powerless. She grabbed the bottle of water from her nightstand and gulped down the water. The water tasted bitter as she forced herself to swallow it. It left a burning trail along her throat. “It is just a dream. A nightmare. It is the past – zap out of it. Come back to the present” she coached herself.

The clock ticked away and slowly she peeled the past from her, the shivering subdued and she journeyed back to the present. Her mouth remained dry – no amount of water was going to take away the feeling she knew from experience. Sleep was also not an option. She flicked the buttons on the remote to turn on her music player set on meditative tunes and tried out techniques her therapists had suggested.

She didn’t want to walk down memory lane but her subconscious could not let go of the past. It taunted her. Jeered at her attempts to walk away. “Don’t let the past rule you” she repeated like she had been doing the last 218 days.  The days were ok as long as she kept moving but the nights were unbearable. They left desolate and abandoned. They stripped away the careful layers she had draped around herself. She shook her head hoping to clear her thoughts, drive them away and move from the haunting pains of the past.

It didn’t help. Nothing ever did. It was her cross to bear. Her burden to carry. “It wasn’t your fault. He was a psychopath and you were lucky to get away.” Different voices had droned at different times trying to ease her pain, her fears, and her nightmares. They didn’t realize that they didn’t help. The supposed words of comfort did nothing. It didn’t reduce the intensity or the vividness of her nightmares. They didn’t stop the nightmares – nightmares in high definition.

She got up and walked towards the window in her bedroom – closed tight and shades drawn. Just like every other window in her house. She locked up and triple checked them every night. “As if the nightmares come in through the window” she muttered. She pushed the shades aside. The windowpane looked grubby – showing signs of neglect and abandon. Her fingers made contact with the icky glass pane. She paused for a second wondering if she was doing the right thing. She turned the handle – the handle creaked in protest. She pushed the panes open.

She poked her head outside – the neighborhood stood still at that time of the night. The night patrol vans were doing their rounds flashing lights, illuminating dark streets, throwing shadows and the lone owl hooted. She took it all in. Her heart racing and her mind reminding her to fight. A zephyr passed through the trees making them tremble and shiver. The draft of air hit her face, cooling her sweat-soaked face and making her curls dance.

This post is a part of the April A to Z challenge. 26 days, 26 letters and 26 short stories. I am at the end of it. Phew! I did it