Nightmares — K de la Renta (Patreon)

My wrists are tied together tightly. Even though I can’t see them, I’m sure there is a deep red tinge over them. It’s cold. Wet. Dark. I can’t even tell how long I’ve been here. My joints ache, my muscles too — but that’s exactly what he wants from me. From us.

But this ‘survival of the fittest’ game isn’t something I’m cut out for.

If I admit I’m scared then it becomes true…

You feel yourself stir awake.

K has always had a particular nighttime routine when it comes to sleeping next to you. They can’t close their eyes until you are fully asleep. You’ve asked them multiple times as to why, and their response never changes — “because I don’t need sleep as much as you do”.

They won’t admit to you that it makes them feel safer. K won’t tell you the steady sound of your breathing and heartbeat calms them.

But when you glance over at them, they’re anything but calm. Their eyes are closed, there’s a twisted grimace on their features, and K can’t help but grip the bed sheets tightly.

“K,” you murmur whilst rubbing the sleep out of your eyes.

If I admit I’m scared then I won’t survive this.

But what am I surviving for if I’m not human? Well, I don’t think I am. I feel different… my mouth and gums hurt… this body isn’t my own…

It feels supernatural.

And I feel far from strong.

Every single memory of being trapped in here comes to the surface. Every. Single. One. Down to each minute detail.

It scorches my brain. Burns my eyes. I can’t even cry because that feels useless.

Despite the others around me I feel more alone than ever.

You’re half awake, but alert. K’s hand subconsciously pats around beside you. They’re searching for you. Searching for something to hold and cling on to. You’re that for them, at times like this, now more than ever.

“You’re having a nightmare,” you whisper. “K, love. Wake up,” you utter in a soothing tone.

Or maybe I was alone from the beginning. That this is all some kind of destiny that’s been part of my path.

Survive the torture but live alone. Or die from the torture whilst mentally being alone.

All whilst…

“K! Wake up now!”

The vampire’s eyes snap open. They suck in a deep breath and quickly sit upright. Cold sweat coats their forehead, so much so that K’s curls stick to it. They groan, glance down, and quickly find that their hand is in yours. K gives it a squeeze until they realise the situation that you’re both in.

“Oh, shit,” they murmur. “Shit! Sorry, I…” K trails off whilst wiping a hand over their face, the heel of their hand rubbing into their eyes. “Sorry.”

A sympathetic look shimmers in your eyes as you sit up too. “You don’t have to apologise. Ever,” you mutter softly.

After a steadying breath, K pulls their hand away. “I do when I’m waking you up in the middle of the night.” They scoff. “Fucking nightmares…”

Your lips purse together. “You went nights without one,” you utter, trying to add some positivity. But all K does is scoff.

“Not enough nights without one,” they counter before ripping the duvet off their legs. K ends up leaving your bedroom without a word, and with vampire speed they’re quickly down the stairs.

If the circumstances were different, you’d make a joke about their supernatural abilities. But instead, you follow their path and find them pacing in the kitchen. K rhythmically steps, and counts out each one like it’s a coping mechanism. You almost don’t want to interrupt but they turn to you as soon as you walk into the room.

“You were sleeping well before,” K says to you softly, their voice falters in the slightest bit — in a way that indicates they’d be happy to be swept into a hug. “You can go back to bed, I’ll be there in a minute.”

You shake your head the slightest bit. “I want you to be okay.”

“I am.”

You arch an eyebrow as you edge closer towards them. “That’s a lie.”

“I just—“ K suddenly stops their pacing as the rest of their words fail to come out. Only for now. “I thought I was done with having nightmares. Done with repaying the same thing over and over again. I mean, all this traumatic shit happened over a century ago.”

“It’s the reason you’re a vampire. The reason you fled your home,” you remind them. “It’s not just something to get over.”

“But I want to get over it.” K’s hands are shaking now. You reach out and hold them. For several moments yours shake along with them.

You bring them a little closer. “And one day you might. Or one day it’ll get a little easier to manage. Just because that isn’t tonight doesn’t mean that it won’t happen at all.” K’s eyes roll. “I mean it,” you tell them.

“And I wish I could believe you.”

“You are not your trauma, K de la Renta. You never have been. And I’ll be by your side to remind you of that every time.”