Page 68 of Acid

I shake my head. “No, not this time. I was covered in sweat and breathing hard, petrified the dream was real, and that she was dead.”

He nods. “Acid, why do you think the woman changed to Perrie? I mean, what you dreamed was a memory, correct?” I nod. “Then why do you believe the image changed to her? Do you think you’re a danger to her?”

I scowl, and deny, “I’d never lay a hand on her that way, ever, I’d rather die!”

He smiles. “Exactly, so why doyoubelieve the woman, one of your abusers, turned into the woman you came to love?”

I shake my head. “I don’t know.”

He smiles again, and states, “Yes, you do. You’re just scared to say the words out loud, and that’s okay. But I believe, once you admit it to yourself, you can start to heal. So, tell me, Acid, why?”

I look back at the fish tank, my heart racing, and I murmur, “Because I miss her…. Because subconsciously, I want to replace all the trauma with happy memories of her, withher. Because she’s my heaven….”

I look back at the therapist, and he nods, closing his book before saying, “Well done, Acid. I believe you’ve made a breakthrough. Ever since you arrived at Lark's, you’ve struggled with your nightmares, and yes, talking about them, talking about your past has most likely brought them back, but you’re getting somewhere now. You’re on the road to healing, and you’ve allowed yourself to see what Perrie truly means to you.” He smiles at me. “We’ll leave it here for today, give you a break.”

I sigh but nod before standing and walking out of his room, grateful for the break.

Talking has never been my strong point, and the first three days, I barely said anything.

I walk into the room assigned to me—white walls and utilitarian furniture, and I sigh as I look around. I know I’m doing the right thing, but fuck, do I miss Perrie.

I notice the paper and pens on the desk walk over to it, taking a seat, and picking up the pen. I promised to write, and I’m going to keep that fucking promise to her. I just hope she’ll be there for me if I return.

My Tinker,

Fuck, I miss you.

I had another therapy session. It was about you, of course. I had a dream last night, and it was bad, Tinker. Instead of my abuser dead after the man behind forced me to choke her while fucking her, it was you dead, and I couldn’t fucking breathe.

I’m scared, Tinker. I’m afraid that I’m not enough for you, that my past will dirty you, but I’m more scared of losing you….

I swallow hard and lean back for a moment. I promised her I’d be honest, I promised I’d let her in, butfuck, it's hard.

What if she reads the letters and never wants my hands on her again?

Swallowing the rising panic, I continue.

When I was fourteen, I’d stolen from this guy. Aiden owed a shit ton of money, and I, fuck, sweetheart, he was going to try and pimp out Eli. I couldn’t allow it.

The man was in his sixties, and fuck, Tinker, I scared the man so much he had a stroke.

He made it through, but not without problems.

He’s in a care facility without use of his left side, and I’ve been funding his stay ever since I got my first pay from the club.

When I gave the fucker, Aiden, the old man’s gold watch and wallet, he grinned before a couple who lived down the road appeared. Mr. Allen held me down while his wife rode me, all while I begged for them to let me go.

He got off on watching his wife rape kids. I slit the fucker’s throat after I became a prospect for the club, then I drowned his wife in the bathtub, the same way Aiden tried drowning Eli.

I swallow the lump in my throat.

I love you, Perrie. Please don’t judge me for what I had to do to keep Eli as safe as I could.

Forever Yours,

XX

I throw the pen down, breathing hard.