Wake to Dream(61)
“I don’t sleep like normal people,” she admitted. “From what I know, it wasn’t always that way, but at some point when I was younger the problems started.”
Silence fell between them, her entire body trembling from the fear that he’d reject her as soon as he knew.
“And those issues are?”
His voice was so soft, so hesitant, that she wasn’t sure if he hadn’t already been chased away by her confession.
“I have sleep disorders. Strange ones, and they happen every night no matter what I do. It’s the reason I’ve never really dated, and the reason I’ve always lived alone.”
Max didn’t comment further, just sat patiently with rapt attention on her.
“Have you ever heard of parasomnias? There are multiple types and I, unfortunately, suffer from several of them.”
Beyond nodding his head, he didn’t move otherwise. “Like sleep walking? Stuff like that?”
She swallowed down the churning of her stomach, the acid that had forced its way up her throat. “That’s one of them, yes.”
Where she’d expected concern behind his ice blue eyes, there was interest instead.
“I’ve heard of conditions such as those, but never seen it myself. Why do you feel the need to tell me this?”
Her hands continued wringing nervously in her lap. “Because of the severity. It’s caused problems for me in the past and I wanted to warn you because I didn’t want it to be a surprise if you witness it. I don’t remember most of it because I’m asleep when it occurs, but from what I’ve been told, it can be somewhat bothersome…or scary.”
Pushing up from where he’d leaned over the island, he rounded the side to stand next to her. His hands grabbed the armrests of the chair and swiveled it so that her knees rested between his partially spread legs. They were as close to each other as they could comfortably get with her sitting and him standing.
“Tell me all of it. And don’t worry that I’ll judge you or hold it against you. It’s like I said,” his voice dropped to a darker tone, his eyes shadowing over to a point where the chill of ice blue churned with the dark gray of a thunderstorm. “We all have our secrets. We all have things that we hope those closest to us can accept and understand.”
Alice wondered for a brief moment what his secrets could be, but she lost that train of thought to the very real fear that he would reject her for her issues as violently as her father had rejected her.
Pushing that fear aside, she summoned the bravery to be honest. “I have night terrors, for one. Basically, that means I wake up screaming. Sometimes, I can’t remember why I was screaming, why my body was completely caught up in the fear I felt when it stopped and I was awake. And other times, I remember the nightmares. They’re awful and I don’t understand them, but they happen. Regularly.”
Inclining his head once to indicate that he understood, he said, “Screaming doesn’t bother me, Alice.”
Her brows knit together at the odd statement, but she pushed forward without giving it much thought.
“I also sleep walk, which is self-explanatory, except most people don’t really understand what it is like. For me, I go to sleep in one place and wake up in another. Sometimes at a doorway, and other times inside something or underneath it.” She laughed, the sound not quite humor. “I’ve woken up several times in a chest that sat at the foot of my bed. It felt like a coffin when I first opened my eyes and I wondered briefly if my father hadn’t followed through on his threat to bury me alive.”
Rolling his shoulders back, Max released a soft gust of air from his lungs, his eyes closing and opening slowly before locking back to hers. “Your father threatened you?”
She nodded. “That’s an entirely different story.” Peeling her eyes away from the anger she could see clearly in his, she said, “For another time.”
A few tense seconds passed before he said, “Go on. What else happens when you sleep?”
“Well, you can’t wake me during the sleepwalking. I strike out, apparently, and I injured several of my family members before they learned to just guide me gently back to bed. Beyond that, there’s the REM behavior disorder – or whatever it is Dr. Chance called it.” Her eyes met his again. “Basically, I fight a lot. I’ve been known to throw things, break things, punch and kick. Nobody would share a bed with me because of it and the worst that’s happened is that I wake up with bruises sometimes from where I’ve struck a bedside table or the headboard. But, if we are to share a bed, I assume that will be something you’ll have to watch out for.”
His lips twitched on a grin. “If I have to bind you and hold you in place, I will.” Reaching out to brush his fingers along the line of her jaw, he added, “For my own protection, of course.”
“No,” she answered, her head shaking at the distant memories his words had brought about. “My father tried that and all that happened was that I injured myself even worse.”
Max stood deathly quiet above her, his body perfectly still, and she looked up to see a mask of anger where an understanding expression had once been.
“Your father tied you up?”
She nodded. “And locked me in a closet, and other things. He said it was for my own safety, and so that he could get some sleep. But it never fixed anything or made it better. I just screamed louder.”