Finley’s POV

I didn’t try to, I just did it. Every night when I woke up from horrible flashback nightmares, I jumped out of my bed and screamed. I woke up my whole house, heck, probably the whole neighborhood. 

Every single night, I would scream, my mother would come into my room to comfort me. It became a habit in the house, somebody needed to be with me when I woke up from these dreams. If somebody wasn’t there, my mind would take over my body and I would come falling, meaning I would lose my sense of reality and I would most likely commit suicide without meaning to. 

My mom came rushing into the room like she always did, and she embraced me. I felt comfortable every time that she did this. I breathed in her sweet scent, reassuring me that I was at home, that I was safe.

“I’m okay now,” I told her quickly after. She nodded slowly and got up to go back into her room. Mom has been different ever since I got back home. I figured that she feels regret and vengefulness. She covers it with sadness, though. 

I usually would fall back asleep in hopes that I could get some resting time, but it usually ends up with another nightmare, exactly like the last.

I didn’t want to fall back to sleep this time. I felt that feeling again. Not a good one. I felt the presence of something outside, hopefully.

I got up out of my bed and put on some clothes, considering that I was in my undergarments. I put on ripped skinny jeans and my Rolling Stones t-shirt. I brushed out my brown curly hair and I put it into a high bun on the top of my head. I grabbed sunglasses, even though it was completely black outside. 

I look at the glowing clock on my bedside table. It says 2:05 AM. It isn’t that late or early. I could come back at around 4:00 AM and still not get caught sneaking out.

I wasn’t supposed to be going anywhere, seeing as though I was still healing from my wounds that took over my body exactly 63 days ago. Yes, my body was still healing from the excruciating pain that I was put through. I still had a slight limp. 

63 days. 63 since I had been back to my house and turned back to what would now be my normal. I still hadn’t fallen into that schedule though, waking up screaming, going to Noah’s house, and doing my school work. It was pointless, going to school 

I shook my mind from the topic and I quietly opened my door. I walked into the dark hallway that led to my other siblings and my mother’s bedroom. 

I dared to open my mom’s door and looked in. She was sound asleep. I could tell that she had been under pressure and stress a lot since I was missing. She was heartbroken that she had lost her oldest child. She thought that she had failed as a mother. She never said it, but I could see through most people. 

I saw through my capturer. He was in great pain. He went through loss, dread, guilt, and grief. He was in as much pain emotionally as I was physically and emotionally. Even though I hated him, wanted him to pay for what he did to me and many others, somehow I had a gut feeling to have sympathy for him and his pain. The thing was, I never knew his name. I never heard his name or any others that had tortured me for that matter. 

I snapped out of my thoughts when I heard my mom shuffle in her bed. I quickly closed the door quietly as possible. I then went to my sibling’s rooms, which were right across the hallway. 

I first looked in my sister’s bedroom, she was sound asleep. My brother was asleep in his room too. They had been put through a lot too. My sister’s grades went down, and so did my brother’s want to participate. My sister was in grade seven, my brother was in grade four. They have gotten better since I have been home, but they still have problems. I try to help them understand that I am okay now, but when they saw me in the hospital, covered in blood, cuts, and bruises, they have never looked at me the same. 

I shut the door on all of the bedrooms softly and walked down the stairs of my home. I went to the kitchen first, collecting a water bottle and sticking it in a bag that I took everywhere with me. It had my essentials. A switchblade, water, sustaining food, a portable charger, other things that I never share with anyone, and most importantly, three extra pairs of sunglasses and baseball caps. 

My identity is something that I am trying to keep to myself. I carry so much with me at all times now, I am so apprehensive. My personality is not sweet, nice, and soft. It is now hard, cold, and angered most of the time. I don’t show that side of me when I am around my family or close friends. 

“Finley, do you need these?” I whispered to myself, shuffling through my bag once more. 

I decided to take the food, baseball caps, a portable charger, and sunglasses out. I still wanted to carry my switchblade and my water. 

I walked out the door, making sure to lock it behind me. I would jump into my window later.

I walked along with my lawn until I got to my road. I needed to be somewhere, I felt it. Someone had been watching me ever since I woke up from my recurring nightmare. Someone listened to me scream and watched me take the things from my bag. They saw me walk out of my house and lock the door behind me. 

I kept walking anyway. I knew that they saw me looking around. 

I decided to walk to a restaurant that I went to often. It was a bar and grill. The people who worked there knew me well, so I went there whenever I felt uncomfortable. It was nice to be around cold, hard people like yourself once in a while. I felt safe to be around that crowd.

I walked on the road for some time until I pulled my earbuds from my pocket and turned on Twenty One Pilots. I needed music more than ever right now. Even if it wasn’t exactly calming music, it put me at ease.

I came up to the familiar road and turned to the back entrance of the restaurant. The music and atmosphere filled me with happiness, which I hadn’t felt in a long time. 

I walked over to the bar counter and as soon as I did, saw a familiar face. It was Noah. 

He had been my best friend after I stepped into the restaurant for the first time. He had supported me and helped me through high school, so did I for him. I was pretty close to him, so it also devastated him when I went missing. Noah wasn’t one to show emotions other than enjoyment to others. After I went missing, all he showed was panic and worry. Now that I am back, he seems to stick by me all of the time like some bodyguard. Not that I’m complaining, Noah is good company. 

“Well, funny seeing you here at this hour,” Noah sarcastically said once he saw me sit on a barstool.

“I had to get out of that place. My room was driving me insane. And that’s saying something. I am emotionally attached to my room.”

“You spend 99 percent of your time in your room when I am over, and that’s a lot. I think I know that you have an emotional problem with your room,” he says with a laugh.

Ah, his laugh was always contagious. If anyone in the world needed a good laugh, you would surely need to find Noah 

“How are you feeling?” Noah asked.

“Well, I just woke up from a nightmare of the most horrid period of my life, so I guess you could say I’m doing okay!” I spoke quickly and sarcastically.

Noah responded, “Cool it. I was being serious. I didn’t need you to lash out at me like that.”

I sighed heavily, knowing that I was just used to turning to my cold side when someone brought up that stupid and useless question. They knew I wasn’t fine. They knew that I probably will never be just fine. 

“I’m sorry, ok? I just am really sensitive about that subject, and you know that,” I told him honestly, feeling dumb as I did so.

“It’s fine to talk to me, alright? I’ll always be here to talk if you need it,” he responded.

I didn’t want to say anything after that, I just needed someone to be there with me, to hold me and tell me that everything was going to be okay.

“Why don’t we go to my place? I was gonna leave anyway before you came,” he inquired.

“Sure, that would be nice.”

Noah paid for the food that he was eating, and made sure to thank the bartender before he left. 

We walked out of the doors of the restaurant, me once again feeling like I was being watched intently. Noah reassured me that I was safe with him by putting his arm over my shoulder, and pulling me closer to him as we walked down the same sidewalk that I took to get here.

Noah’s house wasn’t too far away from mine, so we would be walking in uncomfortable silence the same amount of time that I took to get here myself. 

We walk together, shoulder to shoulder to Noah’s house. He took his key out of his pocket and put it in the locks. There were a total of 5 locks on his door. 

His childhood house was broken into by a robber, who also killed his parents the same night he broke in. He was just as messed up as I was.

I didn’t rely on anyone but myself, occasionally Noah. I tried to make that a false statement many times before, but I can’t trust the people around me as much as I trust myself, although I still don’t trust myself entirely just yet.

I didn’t realize that I was standing in the doorway, drifting off to space in my thoughts and memories until Noah cleared his throat and motioned for me to enter the door.

“You know that you should probably be getting inside, it’s way warmer in here than it is out there.” His face was smug and he was wearing a cheeky smile.

I was quick to roll my eyes and stumble into the door.

“Wow, don’t do that thing with your eyes anymore! They could get stuck up there!” He made yet another sarcastic response to my actions as I walked in and closed the door behind me.

“I’m so sorry! Did I just roll my eyes out loud?” I ask, putting my hands to my cheeks and making a shocked expression.

In sync, we both start laughing hysterically. Our humor always took the best out of situations, whether it be bad or good. 

I walked into his expensive house, one that I will always admire, and sat down on the plush couch. Noah sat beside me. 

He tossed a soft blanket over both of our laps, and he turned on a movie. 

The silence was all we needed, engaged in the delicate sounds coming from the TV in front of us, playing a rom-com, one of my favorites. 

I suddenly felt the distance between me and Noah, only we were inches apart. I felt the need to be closer to his protection. Even though I was inside, I felt a presence. 

His presence. I thought to myself, pondering the actions I should take, what should come out of my mouth. 

Instead of saying anything at all, I slowly moved my body closer to Noah’s. He didn’t react, so I put my head on his shoulder. 

His body was still, so I closed my eyes and was lulled asleep by the quiet noises coming from the dialogue of the TV.