Nightmares of Caitlin Lockyer (Nightmares Trilogy) (3 page)

I looked closely at Caitlin, trying to work out precisely what Chris was staring at.

It couldn't be the bruises on Caitlin's pale face. They'd faded to faint shadows now. She looked as beautiful as the first day I'd seen her.

Caitlin's hands rested by her face on the pillow, each finger individually bandaged and splinted, an IV line slipped between the gauze. The bandages extended down her wrists, like long, white gloves. She wore a hospital-issue nightgown and she'd managed to kick the bedclothes off in her struggle against her nightmares, so everything the scanty nightgown didn't cover was on show. White dressings were stuck to her back, with more on her legs, particularly her ankles and her thighs. Bruises covered her exposed skin in a disturbing rainbow of dark colours.

Before I could stop her, Chris crossed the room and grabbed Caitlin's sheet. She yanked it up to Caitlin's chin, covering her up almost completely. Her eyes turned to me. "You need to take your own advice."

I was annoyed at my sister. "It's not like that. Have you ever known me to take advantage of a girl, without her permission?"

Chris frowned deeply, her eyebrows almost meeting. "She's not like any of the girls you usually bring home. She's younger, more fragile..." She stopped, looking lost for words, before her tone changed abruptly. "How in hell did this little girl survive all that?" She waved a hand over Caitlin's body, encompassing everything now covered by the sheet.

"No one knows," I told her shortly, sitting heavily on the visitor's chair by Caitlin's bed. "But when she wakes up, it's one of the first things I'll ask her."

"Yeah, well, I hope that's soon." She paused and looked at Caitlin again. "Or you'll have to adopt her."

Kissed me.

Two of them.

Pinned me, forced me,
kissed me.

Why?

Because I can.

Nothing you can do to stop me.

First one smelled and tasted bad.

Rough. Hurt me. Told me what they'd do later.

Fear. Cold.

Wanting to cry.

Won't show weakness.

Stuff you.

Second one
... didn't want to let go.

Called me beautiful.

Oh God. Sorry
...

A week without sleep and I was having trouble focussing. I couldn't sleep in Caitlin's bed with her, she'd scream the place down if I slept in my bed or anywhere else, and I couldn't wake her up. I swear I was so exhausted my eyes kept closing of their own accord, but it was only a matter of time before she had another nightmare and woke me.

"Help me, get me out of here!" Caitlin screamed.

I tried calling and then shouting her name, begging her to wake up.

"You promised..." Caitlin sobbed.

I tried talking over her, saying whatever came into my head. I may as well have talked to myself. She was oblivious to whatever I said.

"Let me go, you bastard!" Caitlin's hoarse voice hissed as I crossed the room to the bathroom.

I saturated a face washer with cold water from the bathroom basin and squeezed it out so that it dripped onto her face and neck.

She started to cry. Her voice was a raw whimper. "Please... so cold. Give me my clothes back. Or a blanket. Get me out of here..."

I picked up her medical charts, trying to decipher her doctor's scribbled terminology in the hope that it w
ould put me to sleep. The word
hypothermia
caught my eye on the first page and I looked more closely at the hieroglyphics surrounding it. I remembered how cold she'd been on the beach, too cold to shiver in air that was close to freezing.

Oh, shit.

I got a towel from the bathroom and dried every droplet off her skin. I wrapped her up in her hospital-issue blanket and hugged her 'til her tears dried up, too. Dawn came before sleep did.

I called my sister and asked her to get me some earplugs. I tried them the very next night. I got to sleep fine but Caitlin's nightmares just got worse until she was screaming so loud the earplugs were useless. It took forever to calm her down.

"Please, don't let them..." Caitlin begged, over and over. Her words echoed in my head even after she lost her voice.

The earplugs were in the bin before the sun rose.

I prayed to any deity who'd listen that Caitlin would wake up and the nightmares would stop.

"Oh God, please, stop
..." Caitlin sobbed.

Yes, please, stop.

No deity heard me. Her cries for help were more heartfelt, more urgent and delivered in a far more desperate voice than mine. Even I listened and I couldn't do a damn thing for her.

I don't deny I was desperate to leave. But the more I heard of her nightmares, the more I realised the horror of what she'd been through. I wasn't cruel enough to leave her here alone when I'd promised her I'd stay 'til she woke up.

"Please... you promised..." Caitlin's voice was a pitiful moan.

I wanted to tell her how sorry I was for not helping her sooner.

I turned the TV on, to find it was Disney time. Close to the end of it, I guessed, because Prince Charming was about to kiss some girl in a long, impractical dress and make the whole world perfect again. She woke up and was so pleased to see this perfect stranger in her bedroom that she fell for him, instead of calling the police.

Wouldn't it be nice if the world worked on Disney principles
...

I couldn't begrudge Caitlin one kiss, in the faintest hope it would help. Hell, it couldn't hurt, could it?

I shook my head and laughed at my own misguided idea. Sleep deprivation makes you think of stupid things.

I dozed fitfully until the sun went down and woke to screaming.

Some hours later, in desperation, darkness and insanity, I kissed her. I pressed my lips to hers for a second – nothing more. She froze for that second, then called me names and tried to claw my eyes out. My heart sinking with guilt, I closed my eyes and held my hands up in surrender, backing away slowly. I didn't dare touch her again, let alone try to fend her off.

What kind of scumbag kissed
a girl without her permission as she slept? A lower form of scum than the bloke who stole her ice cream. Kids' cartoons had no concept of rape. Prince Charming was never up on an assault charge, no matter how much the sleazy bastard deserved it.

I pressed the nurse call button. There was nothing I could do to calm Caitlin down this time.

They had to reset three of her broken fingers and there wasn't a scratch on me. I kept my own fingers crossed that the nurses didn't ask me how or why Caitlin had ripped through the dressings on her hands. By some twist of fate, they didn't say a word to me at all. Good thing, too, because I wasn't sure I had the guts to admit to anyone what I'd done.

I paced up and down at the end of her bed 'til the nurses were done. When Caitlin's fingers were firmly wrapped once more, the nurses left.

Caitlin was quiet for a few moments and I lay down on my own bed to try and get some sleep.

"Let me go, you bastard!" s
he hissed through gritted teeth, but with considerable venom.

"You keep fighting them, even in your dreams," I mumbled in her direction, closing my eyes. "Whatever you do, angel, don't you let them win, no matter what."

"Keep fighting. Don't let them win," she murmured softly.

I sat up in surprise, looking at her, but her eyes were still closed.

Come on, Caitlin, wake up. It's my turn to sleep.

But still she slept.

Waking up in the dark.

Drugged blur.
Couldn't see. Head hurt.

Tied up.

Cut myself free, dizzy when I stood up.

Angry voices in the dark.

Open door and light.

Running, pushing past him in the doorway.

Too dizzy.
Dark again. Falling.

His hands on me.

I'll bite.

He laughed.

They're going to hurt me
...

"I have a few more questions." The police officer who came into Caitlin's room was familiar. Was he the one who'd started interrogating me the night we arrived in hospital, before giving me information? Or was he a hallucination, the unwanted child of sleep deprivation?

Caitlin hadn't slept well last night, either. Caitlin never slept well any night. She slept and screamed but didn't wake up. I was forgetting what it was like to sleep at all. My eyes itched from fatigue.

I responded cautiously, "Okay."

"Has she woken up yet?" He leaned over Caitlin's bed, looking closely at her face. He reached out, as if to shake her shoulder.

"Don't touch her," I blurted out, wincing.

His hand stopped, curved not far from her. "Why not?"

"She'll scream." I shuddered.
I couldn't stand it when she screamed. I clenched my hands into fists so he wouldn't see them shaking.

He looked at me for a moment, taking in my fists and the look on my face. He shrugged and seated himself in the visitor's chair by Caitlin's bed, angling his head toward me. "What do you know about the dead man you left on the beach?" His eyes were on me, his expression expectant.

My brain felt slow and tired. "He was hurting her. He was a big bastard with a gun. He and I got into a fight..."

"No," he interrupted. "You told me this already. What do you know about him, except for the few minutes before he died?"

I thought for a moment. "When I checked to see if he was dead, I took his shirt and put it on her. I figured she needed it more than he did and he owed her that much. That was after he died."

The grey shirt had been sticky with blood and it had wicked up the red like sweat, making the white Adidas logo stand out even more. There'd been half-healed welts on the man's back and chest that I'd wondered about, but the police officer probably knew more about them than I did. I only know what I saw. When I'd pulled the dead man's shirt over her head, it had left pink streaks on her face where his blood mingled with her tears. I remember feeling satisfied that I'd forced the lifeless bastard to help her when he was too dead to do anything about it, after all the pain he'd caused her
...

"But did you know anything about him, before that night?" the officer pressed.

"No, I didn't know him." I paused, irritated. "I'm not sure I would have wanted to, either."

He stretched his legs out in front of him, his arms above and behind his head. He looked at the ceiling, sounding thoughtful. "He owned a holiday house not far from where he died. When his wife heard what had happened to him, she was very distraught. She thought he'd gone for a walk along the beach." He sighed. "She was little and pretty, with short, dark hair. Her name was Laura."

I snorted. "Some walk. I wonder if she knew what he was really doing."

"Who knows?" He smiled at me and stood up, looking at his watch. "And now, I have to go. Thank you for your assistance."

He strode out of the room, giving a brief nod to the guard outside before continuing down the corridor to the lifts.

I shook my head. The dead bastard had a wife and her name was Laura. Who would have thought?

Not again.

Too heavy. Couldn't breathe.

Hurt me.

Couldn't scream.

Hurt me again.

Gasping, sobbing. No air.

Crushing weight lifted.

A breath. Another.

Why a reprieve?

Touching me.

NO.
A scream. Mine.

Hurt me more.

"Fuck me, but you took your precious time helping her, didn't you? Could you have let them fuck her up any more without killing her?"

I rubbed my eyes wearily. I hadn't grown a conscience that liked to swear and shout at me. The angry voice could only belong to my boss. Actually, he was my boss's boss. I'd only met him once before and I couldn't remember his name, but I did remember that arguing with him was a bad idea. If I didn't answer, he'd get to the point eventually.

"The boys in Canberra are breathing down our necks on this one, because of the high media profile. We've organised round-the-clock guards for her, and no one even gets her room number unless they have ID and they're on her list of friends and family. We need her and we need her to stay safe. If you want to catch the guys who did this to her, we need to know everything she can remember," he told me, keeping his voice low. "Names, descriptions and what they did to her, with any dates and times she can remember."

"When she wakes up, I'll ask her," I said.

"Fuck, Nathan, the police will be asking, too, and if you want to get to them before the local police do, you need to know everything before they do. You've got to do better than just fucking wait. You need to be her fucking best mate."