A night terror.
“W-what the…” late at night, against the ‘rules’ set by her 'guardians’ but she had to get something to eat. She was making a cross-line through the park when she heard it. Something - no some one was screaming like a banshee. Not only that, it seemed like they were absolutely terrified. She squeaked slightly, eyes shifting, she grabbed at her tensen in her hoodie pocket - she wasn’t the best with it but she could make it work right?
She cautiously approached the sounds, seeing thrashing on a nearby bench, however, she frowned - no one was there. It was just them. A dream? A nightmare?
She felt herself stop mid-step, frowning as her brows furrowed deeper still. How many times had she gone through that? Terrors that wrecked her, left her a sobbing, complete mess by the time she woke up and she was completely alone. No one telling her it’s okay, that she’s safe that.. That anything. She took one step, then another, jogging, then finally running after several more steps, skidding to a stop a few feet from the bench, she saw who it was finally.
“J.. Jones..?” he was crying out, like he was - he was being beaten. She frowned, then moved forward, lifting her hands to take a hold of both of his wrists, “Jones. Jones! Wake up! It’s just a dream! JONES!” nothing was working, he was still in absolute terror.
“Casey!!” his first name. She never really said it much, maybe when he was being a particular little shit, and always followed by his last name, but he needed something, someone. She grunted, putting herself between his head and the bench and letting him rest against her thighs in her lap. At least if he kept thrashing now he wouldn’t lose what was left of his braincells and have a concussion if he hadn’t already.
“Casey.. Wake up, it’s okay,” she kept his wrists from smacking her or worse, grunting from the effort - little brat was strong.
You’ve ruined what was left of us! Of our family!
What would she think? What if she saw us like this?
Don’t you care? What am I to you?
As if living through the ordeal on a daily basis isn’t enough, Casey’s home life has as of late decided to plague him beyond the realm of consciousness, infecting the one place where he used to have refuge.
Having been restless and seeking escape a few hours ago, the dark-hair youth had decided to leave his shared apartment to go for a jog, hoping it would leave him so exhausted that he wouldn’t have the energy to dream. Unfortunately, what started out as a brief breather on a bench led him back to his original problem, sleep overcoming him and dragging him back into the replay of yesterday’s events with his father.
The only difference between this dream and his reality, however, is that he’s fighting back. The sharp jabs sting as they insistently dig into his sides, crumbling teeth spilling out of his mouth and choking him all at once, those familiar dark eyes set on him with murderous intent. It’s been the same dream every night, just as its been the same routine nearly every day.
Through the darkening, reddening mists of his nightmare, however, something suddenly begins to break through–a voice. A woman’s voice. It isn’t his mother, but it’s one he recognizes; one that means a lot to him.
With a sudden gasp, Casey jolts violently into wakefulness, confusion and anxiety hardening into a tight lump in his gut as he finds that his wrists are being restrained. A slurred exclamation laced with half-spoken curses leaves him as he momentarily fights for freedom–but just as quickly, he goes still when his eyes come into focus and catch the golden silhouette of a redhead backlighted by a street lamp.
“A-April?" His voice barely makes it past the choking dryness in his throat.
Casey stares up at the girl with a blank, pale expression, his eyes wide as an unsteady silence befalls the air around them. Thin lines of sweat trail down the sides of his face, liquid gathered lightly in the outer corners of his eyes as he comes to terms with the reality around him. With a few quick blinks, the color seems to return to his eyes, his eyebrows sinking and tilting upwards as a living quality comes to his features.
Not daring to speak another word in fear that this may be a fleeting dream that’s granted him momentary escape from his nightmare, he closes his eyes and turns onto his side, his face pressing against the girl’s stomach, hiding himself.