Finn

The nightmares start the second night in Baton Rouge. I wake up in a cold sweat, screaming silently into the room. My breath comes in pants, and I shiver uncontrollably. Images of Finn in his hospital room muddled with pools of blood and lifeless bodies flash through my mind. There was no sound, no screams, only play-by-play actions my brain made up.

I stand up carefully, bracing on the nightstand, and wobble to the bathroom. I cringe at my reflection in the mirror. My hair is matted to my head, damp with sweat. The rims of my eyes are red and swollen, standing out against my pale complexion.

There’s a knot in the pit of my stomach that’s growing day by day. Finn is progressing as I regress. Something is wrong, something I can’t put my fingers on, but I know in my heart is about to suffocate me.

After the initial shock wore off, and I saw Finn for myself, I was fine... for about twelve hours. Then the nagging feeling started to nip at me slowly. I can’t shake it. In the fifty-some hours since Finn was shot, I’ve experienced a spectrum of emotions.

Reese has begged me to talk to her, but I can’t put anything into words. Each time I try to make sense of my mentality, it always becomes more confusing.

I glance over at the bed and know sleep isn’t an option anymore. I take a quick shower and dress, then send a text to Johnny and Dad that a cab is taking me to the hospital early.

It’s barely daylight when I arrive. Luckily, Doug is still on shift and lets me in without complaining about the time. Finn’s lying partly on his uninjured side, sleeping steadily, as the sounds of machines hum through the room. A sense of peace washes over me as I make my way to his bedside and pull up the chair. He doesn’t stir when I link my hand through his to watch him sleep.

“He had some discomfort last night. We gave him some morphine and something to help him sleep,” Doug says quietly from behind me.

“I’ll be silent as a mouse. No waking him from me.”

“I know that, but I’m off shift soon. Wanted to let you know he may be out of it for a few more hours.”

“Thank you.”

He gives me an encouraging pat on the back and leaves me to my thoughts. The nightmares flash through my mind, making my blood run cold.

The door opens again, and my brother comes forward, handing me a cup of coffee.

“Thanks.”

“You were up early. Should have woke me.”

“Had a rough night. Decided I’d feel better if I was here with him.”

He moves the other chair closer and sits, turning to me with a serious face. “Want to talk about it?”

“Not really.”

“How about if I insist you talk to me? Tell me what’s going on in your head.”

I sigh and kiss Finn’s knuckles before laying them back on the bed. Then I start to fiddle with the lid of my coffee. “I had a series of nightmares. They were vivid and disturbing. It was like watching a gruesome slideshow. Finn was shot, but this time, he didn’t make it. He was lying in a pool of blood, pale and unresponsive. His bright blue eyes were staring at me, dead. Then I flashed to a funeral and having to tell Winnie he wasn’t coming back. My whole body was numb.”

“Presley, he didn’t die. He’s lying in front of you, very much breathing.”

“I’m still numb.”

“You’ve been through trauma, and this brought up memories. Simon’s been in the ground less than five months. This was sure to shake you to the core. But don’t let the bad outweigh the good. You love each other. This is over. Time to move on to the next stage in building your lives.”

“What happens if next time he’s not so lucky? I don’t think I

can survive it. I’m not cut out for this.”

“Presley, what are you saying?”

I stare at him with tears filling my eyes, and he sits up, leaning his elbows on his knees and pinning me with a disappointed glare. “Don’t do it, Pres. You’ll regret it for the rest of your life. Don’t let him go because of who he is.”

“I wish I didn’t have to, because I adore who he is, but I’m not strong enough to be the woman he needs.”

“That’s bullshit and you know it.” He rises quietly and shakes his head at me. “Don’t do anything you’re going to regret for the rest of your life because of your fears. We all hurt when Mom died, but Dad never filled that hole in his heart. Don’t be a martyr and go through the heartache and suffering because you’re too chicken shit to be by his side.”

His words sting, even after he’s left and I’ve had time to think about his logic. Finn was wrong all those months ago. I can’t handle his life.