I wonder sometimes how Eve came into my life. Actually, I know nothing at all about my life before Eve. The first things I remember are from when she was 4 years old (at least, she told me she was 4). I’ve asked questions of the people nearest me and I’ve talked to my doctors. All they ever tell me is that my life “before the accident” doesn’t matter. I don’t even know what accident they are talking about. It’s as if who I am, or who I was, is locked in the depths of my brain somewhere unwilling to come out. Sometimes, I wish I knew. Other times, I am just thankful for what I have.
The biggest problem I do have is I still forget things and sometimes I feel it’s getting worse. Eve gets upset with me for forgetting what she told me last week. Of course, Eve is fourteen, she gets upset with me about a lot of things. Her biggest response to anything that I tell her is, “You are not my mother!” I know that I’m not. I don’t know how I know, it doesn’t matter, Eve is every bit mine in my heart.
My biggest concern with Eve, other than being fourteen, is her nightmares. They are starting to manifest into her physical life. She has been out cold since the other night when I found her in a bed of blood, semi conscious, and muttering to herself. At least right now she is peaceful. It’s not often we get quiet nights of sleep with HIM haunting her.
I have no idea who “HIM” is. She won’t describe him to me, she won’t tell me anything about him. All I know is that she is scared to death of him and it’s been getting worse since she was little. There were actually a couple of years that the nightmares subsided. They re-emerged when her teen years began. I watched as every ounce of youth, every ounce of happiness disappeared from her face right before my eyes as I peeked in on her sleeping. I knew what was happening and I tried to wake her before the man she calls “HIM” appeared, but I was too late. Her screams were so loud that night, the neighbor came running over, gun loaded to see who was killing us.
I’m not much of a religious person, but there are nights that I lay on the bed next to Eve after she has passed out and I pray to whomever is out there, “Please, Please let Eve sleep peacefully tonight. She’s so tired, so fragile, she needs her sleep.” Sometimes I feel it works. other times I curse myself for trying as her muffled mumbles become more screams of terror.
If her nightmares are still memories in the morning, she never tells me. I think she is afraid to tell me what she sees. Maybe she is afraid that I will see it too, or see HIM. I have to admit that whatever she does see scares me just by hearing her. She tells him to “Stop”. She tells Him, “Please No, Please I want to go home.” I don’t know where she is in her nightmares, but obviously it isn’t here. At least I like to think “home” is here.
So, here I sit, next to my sweet Eve, watching as she sleeps peacefully. I hope that she comes back to me as the Eve she was before this last bloody nightmare. More than that, I hope the nightmares stay at bay, but I think we have accepted that won’t happen. Whatever or whoever haunts her in her slumber, I pray he stays behind her brain’s locked doors and never returns.
Originally Published on: Nov 5, 2013
This post was inspired to be written by a prompt from Studio 30+
Word: Please & Locked