Work didn’t prove to be the distraction it normally was.

Every customer seemed to grate on my nerves, and my co-workers did the same thing.

The chai tea I bought from the coffee shop across the square that normally settled my nerves tasted off. When I went to go eat my dinner, I discovered I’d forgotten it – probably at Kane’s, because I remembered packing it earlier.

I had to make do with a bag of chips from the vending machine because I was even tighter on funds than normal, thanks to the holidays and the new semester expenses.

I was going to be starving and exhausted when I got home because I’d agreed to close the store tonight. Those extra expenses meant I needed extra hours, which meant I’d get less sleep.

As it edged closer to closing time, I hauled out my school books and put them on the counter behind the cash register. We’d made it past New Year’s week which was one of the craziest weeks, but now we were slowing down, and I hoped to have a few minutes here and there to study.

But even though the odd lull did come here and there, I couldn’t get my mind to focus on anything.

Except Kane.

It kept going back to those intense minutes on his couch earlier in the evening.

You make me feel safe.

He did.

He’d made me feel safe enough that I’d been able to start things, that I’d been able to kiss him and touch him. And when he’d put his hands on me, I felt things inside me I hadn’t thought I’d ever feel. He’d come inside me and brought me pleasure that was…wow…earth-shaking.

And yet there’d been that odd instance of panic as he crouched over me. What was that?

A memory so fragmented it could barely be called one washed up from the recesses of my mind – another man, another face, somebody crouched over me, hands gripping me, a hand tangled in my hair.

“No,” I muttered, shoving the thought aside.

The bell of the door jangled, and I looked up, eager for the distraction. But Toni, the girl who was closing with me had already moved in on the two young women coming into the boutique.

Sighing, I closed my books and moved out from behind the counter, going over to the clearance racks to start straightening them.

Another half hour and we could start closing the store, then I could go home.

I’d have a glass of wine – or maybe I’d go straight to the cheap rum I’d picked up and mix it with some soda. One drink and I’d be out like a light and this weird-ass day would be over.

* * *

An hour later, I was finally home, and I did decide to go for the rum and soda. It hit me hard, considering I hadn’t had much to eat since lunchtime, but I didn’t bother rummaging around looking for anything to eat.

Most of what I had in the apartment was stuff like canned pasta or ramen noodles, and none of that sounded appetizing.

Part of me wished I’d taken Kane up on his offer of pizza. Not that I’d had the time, but I’d loved our casual meals together, followed by quiet chatter about everything and nothing.

And he wondered why I felt safe with him.

Brooding into my cocktail, I lay propped up in bed in my pajamas while the news played in the background. My mind was wandering, and I waited for the drink to catch up and hit me, so I could sleep. I had to be up in six hours, so I could catch the subway in time to make my first class.

My mind was comfortably hazed, finally, and I thought maybe I’d get some sleep, some real sleep.

“…local football star indicted for rape…”

I blinked and focused on the TV as a local newscaster continued to talk, reporting a story that had been dominating the area media for the past few days. Cringing mentally, I reached for the remote, but in the end, I sat there, clutching the remote and watching the TV.

“…witnesses reported seeing the victim lying unresponsive when they came across the two. The accused, according to witness reports, was on top…”

I closed my eyes, blocking out the mental image the reporter’s words painted. As she continued to drone on, I grabbed the remote and turned the TV off. Straightening up in bed, I tossed back the rest of the drink and got up to mix another. I was probably going to end up with a headache in the morning.

But now I needed the alcohol to sleep.

Returning to bed, I hit the lights and sat there, drinking in the dark.

* * *

“…stop screaming…”

His voice rasped in my ear, and when I opened my mouth to scream again, he kissed me, his tongue thick and intrusive in my mouth. It gagged me, and I gasped for air when he finally stopped.

Hard hands ripped at my clothes, shoving my shirt up, jerking at my skirt.

“Look at your pretty titties, Raye!”

His voice echoed in my ears, and I tried to focus on his face. Darkness obscured much of him, but I caught sight of his eyes. Dark brown and they stared down at me.

His hands, so big and hard and cruel, closed over my breasts and I cried out in pain as he squeezed.

“Be quiet!”

He smashed his lips down on mine again, jerking up only when light flared.

A door opened! I turned my head, calling out.

“Shut the fucking door!”

Light spilled across his face, and I shrank away as I recognized him. My head spun, and my belly roiled.

No. This wasn’t happening.

But the spinning in my head got worse, and when he bent back over me, there wasn’t just one of him but two.

He fisted a hand in my hair, jerked my head back. This time when he kissed me, I didn’t have the strength to pull away or even try to turn my head. I didn’t have the strength to shove at him when he pulled my panties off.

“That’s better. You know you want this…why are you trying to fight?”

I choked out something. Did I tell him to stop? Did I say no?

I couldn’t tell.

But I slapped at his hands until he grabbed them and jerked them overhead, pinning me down.

When he drove into me, it hurt.

He grunted and muttered, “Fuck, you’re dry, bitch. Don’t you know how to do this?”

I whimpered, trying to curl up in a ball, but all that did was get me a punch in the stomach.

Dazed, I laid there, trying to breathe, but I couldn’t.

My head spun.

He moved over me.

Somebody laughed.

He said something.

A door opened again, and light spilled across his face as he panted down into my face.

And I saw his.

Brown eyes.

A scar bisecting his eyebrow.

I jerked awake.

Sweating and shivering, I lay huddled in a ball on the bed as the nightmare faded, already almost out of reach.

I’d never been able to remember my dreams very well, and the nightmares like this were the worst.

Some might think it was a blessing, but some didn’t know what I knew.

The not knowing was a curse.

The uncertainty, the fear, the doubt, all of that was a nightmare of its own, one that I’d been living with for years.

This time, I dreamed it was Kane.

For a minute, I thought I’d get sick.

I sat there on the side of the bed, swallowing the spit in my mouth and breathing shallowly until the urge past. Then, slowly, feeling like I’d aged a decade, I climbed out of bed and grabbed my robe. Shivering, I pulled it on. The heavyweight material did nothing to penetrate the chill that gripped me, and I knew it would be hours before I felt warm. It would take days for me to feel clean again.

Half stumbling into the bathroom, I turned on the lights, refusing to look at myself in the mirror.

I knew what I’d see, and it wouldn’t help anything.

My pallor, my over-dark eyes, the trembling lips and the shadows that would linger in my gaze for the next few days, it was all familiar territory. What I needed now was a hot shower and a hot cup of tea. I’d curl up in my chair, and if I was lucky, I’d drowse for a few more hours.

I stood under the minuscule showerhead, scrubbing at my skin until it was pink.

It did nothing to alleviate the fact that I felt dirty, but the attempt mattered. There was a pattern I had to follow after the dreams, and the shower was part of it. Once I was done, I slathered myself in a lotion I saved for certain occasions – not special, per se, but the scent of it comforted me, and this was a time when I needed comfort. The scent of vanilla and lavender rose around me as I tugged my pajamas and robe back on.

Heading back into the main room of my apartment, I went to the stove and started a pot of water to boil.

As the water heated, I got down my box of teas and took my time looking for the lavender-chamomile mix.

Throughout the entire process, I didn’t let my mind wander past anything except what I was doing.

I couldn’t afford it.

I already felt just this side of shattering.

I was going to have to think, and soon.

But I wasn’t ready to do it yet.

Thinking could wait.

It could wait until I was a little more focused. A little more centered. A little less wracked by cold and chills.

A few minutes later, I curled up in my chair, a heavy fleece blanket wrapped around me. I stared outside at the Christmas tree that filled the window of the apartment of my neighbor across the street. She hadn’t taken it down yet. Part of me hoped she wouldn’t. I found the lights calming.

I took a sip of tea.

The dregs of the dream were all but gone when I finally let myself think about it.

Only one thing remained clear.

But that one thing was enough.

I’d dreamt it was Kane.

I’d thought I’d been doing better.

I’d thought I’d come so far.

And something had set me back.

Was it just because I’d been with Kane?

Was it because I’d seen Chad?

Was it because I’d fallen asleep right after that one newscast?

Or was it simply because I was just that fucked up?

I really didn’t know.

But I’d thought I was doing better. I’d thought maybe I could have a relationship with somebody. But even casual sex with a guy who made me feel as safe as Kane did had somehow wound up with me dreaming about him raping me.

I couldn’t handle these dreams again.

It had taken forever for them to fade.

I wasn’t going down this road again.

Not for anything.

“I’m going to have to end things with Kane.”

To my horror, tears pricked my eyes.

But I wasn’t going to change my mind, either.