Week 92 – Dead of night, footsteps echoing in the narrows of the upstairs hallway, creeping lightly, ever closer

“Rach?”

She didn’t want Drake looking at her like that. She didn’t want to think about him hurting too, he was the cause of all of this.

Dinner?

How could she say yes when he’d hurt her so badly?

How could she say yes when she didn’t know if he would hurt her again?

How could she take that risk?

Why couldn’t she hate him?

She should hate him, but . . .

She didn’t.

Rachel closed her eyes, trying to clear her mind, figure out what the right thing to do was. Instead images started to flash through her head. Dead of night, footsteps echoing in the narrows of the upstairs hallway, creeping lightly, ever closer, people in her room, hands hitting her, feet kicking her, cold, dark, blood.

“Rachel.”

Someone shook her, popping her eyes open, she was shaking, and cold, and sweat dotted her brown.

Flashback.

She hated those.

“Shh, its okay. I’m here.” Drake’s arms came around her, holding her tightly against his chest. His arms shouldn’t make her feel safe but they did. She was so confused.

There was one thing she needed to know.

“Were you really watching the house all these months?” she asked.

“Yes. I wanted to come to you so many times but I was afraid you would hate me. Kind of like you do right now,” he said, half jokingly, half seriously.

“I don’t hate you, but I do hate what you did.” Despite her anger and hurt it felt good to be in Drake’s arms again. Wasn’t this what she had dreamed about, prayed for, imagined happening all this time?

“So?” Drake said slowly, his hands gently stroking her back. “Are things really over between us? Can you forgive me? Can you give me a chance to earn your forgiveness and your trust back?”

Rachel knew she needed to decide.

He needed an answer and so did she. The last few months had been hell and she couldn’t keep obsessing over this or she would drive herself insane.

She still loved Drake but could she forgive him and take him back?