The Daymare

"Caramel!"

I jerked awake and my heart pounded hard and fast, I could feel my clothes soaked in sweat and a single drop running down my cheek…or maybe they were my tears, I couldn't tell.

I just knew that at that moment I was scared and in an unfamiliar place, my breathing was erratic and I felt like I was close to a panic attack.

Where did they go?

I looked around and all I saw was him…Timothy, was crouched down in front of me, his hands holding my shoulders and his eyes filled with worry…why? I didn't understand.

"Are you okay?"

I stared back into his eyes, no reason to shy away from eye contact. His brown eyes looked like chocolate when he was worried I concluded in my head, he was also breathing heavily like he also just woke up from a nightmare about being drowned in a pool of his sisters' blood.

"You were crying in your sleep, it was so hard to wake you up…you just wouldn't budge," He explains like I asked him for it. His hands drop from my shoulders but he doesn't leave his crouching position, he continued to stare at me waiting to see if I was fine. It got me confused. Why was he worried about me? I am just a person he met a few hours ago and yet here he is in front of me asking if I'm okay.

I have to admit it made my heart waver, I have been having these reoccurring dreams for the past eight years yet he, Timothy, the annoying yet good-looking stranger was the first person to ask if I was okay.

He didn't say words like 'grow up' or 'stop being weak'

"I'm fine," I heard myself say, my voice sounded foreign to my ears, I had not heard it since I answered the questions the police had asked me months ago. I didn't even speak to the therapist that was assigned to me, I wrote on a piece of paper whenever we had our meetings yet here I was talking to the most annoying person I've ever met.

He seemed surprised that I replied, I found his expression funny, I chuckled and he smiled as well but it looked strained, he was probably wondering how I could laugh when I just woke up from a nightmare or daymare in my case. The emotions the dreams evoked only lasted a few minutes then after that I'm back to my dandy self. It is how I was raised, there is no room for anything else.

"Do…you want to talk about it?"

Nope, not in a million years.

My expression changed back to the one I was used to and I felt my facial muscles ease. He seemed to get the message as he nodded, meaning he understood.

For some reason, I was grateful he didn't probe any further because even though I wouldn't have given him a reply, I would still get uncomfortable...I would still have to think about it.

He finally got up and went back to his seat, his eyes still on me like he was scared I would start crying again.

Speaking of which…

I touched my face and felt the wetness and stickiness, it annoyed me to no end.

I looked out the window and noticed it was darker outside and the only reason why it still seemed like daytime was the fucking bright bulb above our heads.

Fancy.

I felt out of sorts and I noticed when I realized I was returning Timothy's glances, I was gradually losing the strength to ignore his presence.

I got up and stretched my body, groaning in satisfaction, I slept well but now I need to get clean before I puke on myself…now that wouldn't be ladylike.

Each of our stupidly expensive cabins came with its bathrooms and the only reason I would have to leave here is if I get hungry and I want to head to the bar and restaurant to fill my stomach.

It was very convenient which was why I didn't feel a thing while making a dent in the money that was given to me by the government out of pity.

I bought the second-best ticket just so I could enjoy my experience, if it wasn't for Timothy I'm sure this would already be a five-star experience in my head.

I took out my thick yet comfortable nightwear with the cotton blanket I had purchased at the entrance of the station out of my suitcase. My suitcase was not a suitcase to others but a trunk but I prefer the term suitcase, it sounds fancy.

I set them down on the seat big enough to be called a small mattress…which still fascinates me. The cabin was spacious, unlike any other train I'd seen on TV.

I began to undress, already picturing myself in the shower with hot water pouring g on my skin…the feeling...

I heard a choke as I unhooked my bra. Timothy had gone completely red and his eyes were wide, he seemed to be in shock and I wondered why.

"Why…why are you doing that here?" He stammers, cute.

"Doing what?" I spoke again, I completely removed my bra and folded it like I was taught, that seemed to affect Timothy as he turned around and face the wall like the weirdo he is, I was not surprised. I took off my underwear and relished the feeling of freedom I was feeling at that moment.

"Oh, God! Do you just take your clothes off in front of anyone?"

"Yes, why?"

He became a stuttering mess after my reply, I ignored his incomprehensible mutterings and walked into the bathroom.

It was neat, I observed. It wasn't as big as the one at the orphanage or my therapist's house but it was at least spacious.

There was a shower curtain that separated the shower from the toilet…convenient. This means I don't have to wait for Timothy to finish showering if I'm pressed…just like at the orphanage.

I turned on the shower and fortunately, there was hot water, I increased the temperature till I was satisfied and sure that my skin would feel raw to the touch after I was done.

I carried my vanilla body wash with me, we were not allowed things like these at the orphanage but once I was free from there it was the first thing I asked for…I loved the scent…it smells better than what I grew up using.

Brown soap, they called it. They said it got rid of all the germs but yet it smelled like decomposed snail corpse. I can't help but think that the sisters just wanted to torture us with everything they could.

As my skin got used to the water I felt all the tension and tiredness wash away…it felt good.