Chapter Forty-Four: Will they ever stop?

I wake up suddenly from my recurring nightmare, drenched in sweat with my heart racing. Will they ever stop? I let out a breath and run my fingers through my wet hair. I glance over at Alyssa, who is still sound asleep. I’m relieved that I didn’t wake her with my whimpering. Trauma sucks! Does it ever go away?

I am tempted to wake Alyssa up. She said I could, but I won’t. My motive would be purely selfish; it would be to distract myself from my dark thoughts. It would be unfair to her. When I looked at the clock, it showed four o’clock. I only fell asleep about an hour and a half ago. There is no way I will get back to sleep.

I carefully and silently climb out of bed, being mindful not to wake her. I used to rely on sleeping pills. I stopped them because of the side effects. They messed with my mood, and it became a struggle to keep it together during the day. I wasn’t able to concentrate on work like I was supposed to. It was a mix of them and my antidepressants, something else I stopped taking because of side effects. My doctor wasn’t happy, but it was my life and my decisions.

I sneak out of the bedroom and head for the kitchen. I needed water. Although a scotch seems like the better choice, I can’t have one because I have work in four hours. I leave the lights off and find the sofa in the dark, taking a seat. I will find something to occupy myself. The gym sounds like a good idea. The noise won’t disturb Alyssa since it’s soundproof and in the basement. It’s the second most effective stress reliever for me. Sex takes the top spot.

I gulp down my water and make my way to the basement. I keep workout clothes in my gym, so I won’t need to disturb Alyssa. I begin by pounding the punch bag, using it as a way to release my anger. With each hook, the pain in my knuckles intensifies. I ignore the pain and continue until my blood seeps through the bandages wrapped around my hand. The pain feels good. Too good!

No longer have control; numbness has taken its place.

“Wyatt, stop?”

The sound of Alyssa’s concerned voice from behind me makes me step back. I look towards her, and she returns my gaze with a worried look. My breathing is heavy, and my heart and pulse are racing. No feelings surface when our gazes meet. The fear and sadness in her eyes have no effect on me.

“Go back to bed,” I demand and return to the punch bag.

It’s not a good idea for her to be near me when I am like this. She won’t like me. I get inside my head and don’t want to be around anyone. I hate it, but it is something that has happened for years.

Alyssa stays put. Instead, she comes over and stands in front of the punch bag. “Wyatt, please stop. It’s not normal for you to bleed so much during boxing.” She whimpers.

The material is soaked with my blood, and it flows down my hands. She cautiously comes over and takes her place between me and the bag.

“Alyssa, leave me alone,” I say calmly.

She remains in the same position. She shakes her head, “No.”

My jaw clenches with her refusal. “Now.”

Standing her ground, she crosses her arms over her chest, “No! I am not going anywhere until you stop and let me clean you up.”

I close my eyes and take a few deep breaths. “I am not in the mood for your disobedience.”

She is extremely stubborn, and it pisses me off.

“At this moment, Wyatt, I am not your submissive, I am genuinely concerned, and I am not leaving. I don’t care what you do or say.”

“I am fine. Go back to bed. You are up soon for work.”

What do I need to say or do to get her to go away? With a shake of her head, she moves closer to me. She caresses my face as her eyes soften. My next action comes as a surprise. I close my eyes and give in to her touch.

“Wyatt, let me clean and bandage your hands, please. You must be in pain.” She whispers.

“I don’t feel it.”

She pulls her hand away. “Have you had another nightmare?”

I open my eyes, “Yes. Working out helps.”

“I told you to wake me up.”

“I didn’t want to. You were sleeping peacefully.” I reply.

“It wouldn’t have made a difference. First aid kit?”

“Yes, there’s one in that cabinet.”

She tells me to take a seat. I do as I am told. She strolls over to get the kit and comes to kneel before me. She unwinds the bandages covering my hands. My knuckles are bleeding, swollen, and beginning to develop bruises.

Alyssa sighs, “Please tell me you don’t do this to yourself often?”

“Sometimes, but not often.”

It is unintentional. I lose control, and it happens. It is probably considered self-harm. Alyssa cleans me up and wraps them in clean bandages. She rubs my knuckles.

“Do you want to talk about it?” she asks gently.

“No, I don’t.”

I am still not ready to open up about my nightmares. It isn’t information she needs.

I have disappointed Alyssa with my response. “Okay. You will do this one thing for me, and I won’t accept no for an answer. You will leave the gym and come back upstairs. I’ll make tea and a snack for us, and we can stay awake until you’re ready to sleep or it’s time to work.”

“Okay.” I smile.

I could argue with her, but it wouldn’t make a difference. She won’t listen, and I don’t have the energy to take charge of the situation. Even I have nights when I’m not at my best. With a bright smile, she leaps to her feet. She helps me to mine and leads me upstairs.

“You take a seat, and I will make the tea.”

She disappears to the kitchen. As I sink into the sofa, I become aware of the stinging in my knuckles. I’ve faced worse pain than this. Alyssa’s caring nature isn’t something I am used to. I didn’t treat my previous subs the same way I treat her or allow them to get close enough to provide comfort or take care of me outside of our dynamic. I’m unsure of my thoughts on the matter. It is nice to have someone who cares, I guess. As long as she doesn’t get too attached or makes a habit of it. Our thing will be done if that happens.