No doubt about it.
Without the ability to tell her all of it, I had to go with the basic, high-level view of the situation.
“I can’t…I can’t sleep,” I finally said.
“Why not?”
“The dreams.”
“Tell me what you dream about,” she said softly.
I turned my head to gaze up at her. I didn’t know what I saw there, but I knew it wasn’t just morbid curiosity or nosiness.
“I was a POW,” I told her.
She nodded, and there was no surprise contained within her eyes.
“I know,” she replied. “I read about it. Is that what you dream about?”
“Most of the time,” I said. Flashes of Bridgett’s body on the ground flickered in my brain, and I bit down on my lip to stop myself from blurting it out. “I usually dream about being tied up and shoved into a hole in the ground. And the sand. Just constant, fucking sand.”
“How long has it been since you’ve slept?”
I shrugged and shook my head. I had no idea.
“I can’t sleep by myself,” I said. “It’s been…a while.”
“By yourself?” Lia asked. “But you can sleep if someone is with you?”
Whirling nausea swirled in my stomach. I hadn’t meant to say anything about it at all, and now she was likely to press for a better answer. What would I even tell her? I do my best sleeping after a little anal with a hooker? Oh, by the way, I might have shot her when the mood struck me.
How about a nice night on the town?
“I guess,” I said quietly. My heartbeat pounded in my temples as I started to sweat due to the energy it was taking not to tell her what happened.
Lia’s fingers trailed slowly over the side of my face.
“If I was with you, would you be able to sleep?”
The feeling that came over me at the very idea could have easily knocked me to the floor if I hadn’t already been secured to the metal chair. My fingers tightened on her thigh as the reality of the situation hit me.
If I had just held out another day—maybe even another hour—I could be sleeping with her right now. I could be in my bed with Lia in my arms and Odin making disgusting saliva trails on my arm when I overslept.
I’d fucked it all up.
“Shit…shit…shit…”
“Evan!”
“So fucked up…”
“I know,” she said with a rush of air from her lungs. “It’s as fucked up as anything ever has been.”
“It’s worse,” I responded. I squeezed my eyes shut and considered biting down on my tongue.
There’s a rush of blood into my throat just after a sharp blow to my chin causes me to bite down on my tongue. For a moment I think I’m choking on my own blood, but once I manage to swallow, I can breathe again. My tongue throbs in my mouth…
“Evan?”