Page 104 of Maybe Baby

In the weeks following the Malvern competition, Mark and I continued to work on another musical freestyle routine. We had to increase the technical level since taking first at Malvern Park. Our next competition was scheduled for October 13th in Nashville. The workouts with Derringer were exhausting, at least for me. Derringer was in his element.

I hadn’t seen Trey since my vomiting faux pas during the awards ceremony. He'd called me the next day to see how I was feeling. I'd apologized to him repeatedly over the phone. He insisted it was no big deal, saying that he hadn’t liked those shoes anyway. His parents had returned to the manor that same weekend. I wondered how long it would be before Trey went back to Atlanta and stayed. His responsibilities were finished for now.

The fall weather was a blessing in southern Virginia. The nights were cool I took advantage of it. I had removed the window air conditioner from my bedroom and had taken to sleeping with the window open, enjoying the night breezes and fresh air. I was normally in bed by 9 p.m., drained of all energy.

I was determined to stay up later tonight. The season premiere of “Revenge” was on and I was hooked. I made some microwave popcorn and poured a tall glass of iced tea for myself. I relaxed back on the sofa and lasted about 15 minutes before I dozed off. The show was long over by that time. I turned the television off, switched off the lights, and went to bed. The stars were out tonight; I liked being able to see them from my bedroom window. A cool breeze blew through the curtains, parting them so that I could see the beautiful night sky. I was back to sleep within minutes.

I was dreaming. I felt his hands on me...His fingers were caressing my inner thigh, parting my legs. It must be Trey. Trey had come to me in my dreams, finally. His touch seemed foreign to me now. That was no surprise, it had been awhile. Perhaps Charlotte had ruined his magnificent touch. We would get it back; we would once again work our magic with each other’s bodies.

His hand was pulling my silk panties down to my ankles, then removing them and tossing them aside. His lips were on my sex, tongue darting in and out of the folds, fingers roughly pushing inside. Had he forgotten how to find my sweet spot? His hands were roughly exploring every part of me down there. He thrust another finger inside of me, the fingernail scratching my soft flesh. I moaned from the pain, he mistook it for pleasure and continued the rough in and out motions with his fingers.

This is eerily familiar.

Then I heard his voice. It was no longer smooth and silky.

“You like that don’t you, bitch? Moan for me again. Tell me how much you like it, Sissy.”

I realized this wasn't a dream. This was the reality of the moment. I fought to open my eyes, yet I didn’t want to see that awful man. The man from when I was 13. My mind fought to find some logic, some rationale as to why and how he was here now. I thrashed away from him, trying to push him off the bed.

“Sissy likes it rough, huh?” his voice was a hoarse whisper. “Want me to fuck you like the boss man did in the stable that night? You liked it rough then didn’t you Sissy?”

I found my voice and shrieked with rage. A hand clamped down savagely on my mouth to quiet my screams. My survival instincts kicked in. I bit his hand as hard as I could tasting his blood.

“Ow!” he bellowed, “you fucking bitch cunt!” he hollered, pulling his hand back momentarily. A moment was all I needed. I screamed wildly, kicking and flailing at him with legs and arms. My hand came in contact with something on the nightstand. It was the lamp. I grabbed it, swinging it around and smashing it against something. I was hoping I’d hit him.

“Help! Someone please help!” I wailed.

He was on top of me now, livid with rage. The curtains were billowing out from the night breeze, letting the light of the stars and moon inside the darkened room. In the seconds just before his meaty fist found my face, I saw the man from my past once again in the dark. It was Charlie. His fist took the image away. I sank blessedly into black unconsciousness.

I was dreaming again. In my dream, I had a horrendous headache. It throbbed and pounded worse than any hangover. But I hadn’t been drinking. I was confused. I heard voices around me in the dream. They were hushed voices, almost whispering. Were they talking about me? The voice talking now was talking louder. I didn’t recognize the voice.

“Mr. Sinclair,” the unrecognizable voice said firmly, “we've no way of knowing when she will come to. These things are not predictable. Every person is different; healing is dependent upon many factors. I know that you want an answer. I just don’t have one to give you.”

“Fine, doctor,” Trey’s voice said. He was perturbed I could tell. He mumbled to someone else a few moments later, “You’d think that with all the damn tests they’ve ran on her over the past 24 hours, they could tell us a bit more than that.”

“I know it’s frustrating.”

That was Mark’s voice! Mark and Trey were both here in my dream? Why couldn’t I see them? I opened my eyes but there was nothing but darkness. Why was I blindfolded?

My eyes fluttered open to blackness. This wasn’t a dream, I realized. But something was definitely covering my eyes. A bandage, perhaps? I was thirsty, definitely thirsty. I tried to say something, but all that came out was a squeaky groan. Someone came close to me; I could feel someone there.

“Tylar, are you awake?”

It was Denise. Denise was here, thank God!

“Denise…” I groaned; my voice was a hoarse rasp at best.

“It’s me Tylar. I’m here with you. You're in the hospital.”

What? Again?

“I’m going to buzz for your nurse.”

Had I been in an accident? Did I fall from Derringer? I couldn’t recall anything. A few moments later someone else came into the room. It must be the nurse as I felt someone hovering over me, taking my blood pressure then checking something on my arm. Probably one of those IVs.

“Ms. Preston? Can you hear me, Ms. Preston?”

I nodded because it hurt to talk.

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