Time Heals, or So They Say
22. I awoke in a sweat. My sheets were tangled around my feet, holding me captive. I pushed my bangs off my forehead. Another nightmare. I moved in slow motion; my body was still in shock. Each lethargic movement made me feel like it took hours before I fully sat up. I was exhausted and tired, but not enough to go back to sleep. I stared at the dusky light flitting through the slits of the blinds. The sun’s orange rays brightened my room from complete darkness into hazy light. By the time the rest of the world started to wake, my heartbeat finally slowed. I allowed my breaths to calm me, convincing myself I was safe. I wasn’t trapped. I wasn’t under attack. They told me it would take time to heal. It’s been seven years now, seventeen weeks since the last nightmare. 21. The walk from my bed to the bathroom seemed to take twenty years. By the time I walked in and turned on the shower, I had to ...