Fear of Falling

I surrender every drop of my defiance. And I let him have it. It was too weak to fight it anymore.
    Finally, when I was just a mewling mess of whimpers, Blaine slid beside me, covering my half naked body with the comforter. My eyes were still shut tight, the aftershocks wracking my frame and pushing me into exhaustion. He eased my head onto his chest and squeezed me tight, kissing my face and hair.
    “Sleep now, beautiful Kami,” he whispered, just as the walls of my subconscious closed in on me.
    Tucked under his arm, his silver threaded nipple just centimeters from my lips, I smiled and did just that.

    I jerked awake, sweat covering my entire frame. I was warm—too warm. And I wasn’t alone. But the thing that terrified me beyond anything else, the thing that had me hyperventilating, fighting for my next ragged breath was the darkness. It was completely dark. And there was a body wrapped around mine.
    NoNoNoNoNo
    I couldn’t breathe. I couldn’t move. I couldn’t even scream. I just knew that I had to get away from here. I had to find the light switch, but my body wouldn’t follow my sleep-fogged brain’s commands. It was already too late.
    I was beyond losing it. I was already lost.
    Weight lifted off of my chest, and hands gasped my sweat-slicked shoulders. A silent whimper passed my lips. I wanted to cry so badly. I wanted to scream for help. Someone was in this darkness with me, shaking me, calling my name… I had to get away. Bad things happened in the dark. Evil things. Things that had me plummeting toward the bleakest recesses of my mind…
    Mommy told me if I stayed quiet, she’d leave a light on for me. She knew how afraid I was of the dark. How it reminded me of the times Daddy would lock me in the closet. He laughed at me. He called me names and teased me for being so scared. My cries only made him keep me in there for longer, but I couldn’t help it.
    Sometimes the fear would make me wet myself. Then Daddy didn’t laugh anymore. He’d get his belt and beat my bare, soiled bottom until it was burning with red welts. He said he had to. He said he had to teach me, because he loved me.
    Daddy’s love hurts me. I don’t want him to love me anymore.
    Afterward, Mommy would put me in the bathtub. Daddy would force her to leave sometimes. She would cry and beg to stay, but he would slap her across the face and tell her to shut up. Then he would close and lock the door. I hated when he closed the door. I knew what was coming. Bad things always happened when Daddy closed the door.
    He said he had to give me a special washing with his hands. He said he had to because that’s what daddies did when they loved their daughters. They touched them. I didn’t like it. I never liked it when Daddy loved me. Mommy wouldn’t let him love me for long though. She would beat on the bathroom door until her small hands would bleed. She’d threaten to call the police. Daddy hated that. So he said he had to teach Mommy too. He had to teach her with his fists because he loved her so much…
    “Kami! Kami, baby, wake up! Kami!”
    A muffled voice pierced the darkness, beckoning, pulling me out of the hell inside my head. I focused every ounce of coherency on his strained voice. I inhaled his familiar scent, and let the feel of his warm skin against mine be a physical reminder.
    “Kami! Can you hear me? Oh my God, you’re shaking. Baby, please wake up!”
    I concentrated on Blaine’s pleading words and tried to make sense of them. While darkness tried to pull me back under, his voice, his presence, fought to bring me back to him. He kept shaking me, kept calling my name. I wanted to fight too. I wanted – needed— to find my way back to Blaine.
    “The lights,” I rasped through an aching throat. “The lights! Turn on the lights! Please!”
    Realizing what my hoarse voice was urging him to do, he bounded off the bed and sprinted to the wall. He clicked on the light switch and surveyed the cowering mess in front of him.
    The secret was out. The ruse of my life was revealed. If Blaine didn’t know how deeply fucked up I was before, he knew now. And that fact broke my abused heart in two.
    He rejoined me on the bed, hesitant to touch me, as I rocked myself back and forth, my knees drawn up to my chin. I had to hold myself together. I had to keep it all in. If he knew the ugliness inside me—if I let it spill out like the rising bile in my throat—he would never look at me the same way. He wouldn’t want