Chapter Twelve

Riot

"A ha!" I exclaim as I finally find some wet wipes and hold them up. Rafe's face clears with understanding, and I turn around and hold them up to Jake, who looks confused. So I explain, "Dude, you look like a horror show right now. You have blood all over your face and splatter on your knuckles. I'm not sure that you want to walk through your front door like that."

His eyes widen, "Shit, yeah you're right. I don't want to scare my sister more than she already is."

"No, you don't. Unfortunately, your face still looks pretty bad, but there's fuck all that we can do about that," I reply.

It doesn't escape my notice that he doesn't mention either of his parents and what their reactions would be, and that tells me a lot about his situation.

Around ten minutes later, he's finally looking a lot more presentable, and he leans forward and points to the left, "That's mine. You can pull up outside. My parents are working nights. They're doctors."

He explains somewhat unnecessarily, but it does explain why he didn't mention them; I doubt he ever really sees them unless they have a day off. It also explains the large and well taken care of home that we've pulled up outside of. I doubt his parents have any idea about who he really is, or what their daughter has been through. They're most likely asleep when they get up for school in the morning and just getting ready to leave when they get home.

I should know; it's the same hours my aunt works when she's on the night shift. I actually can't remember when the last time I saw her was. The only reason I know when she's home is the shoes by the front door.

"Don't forget to let us know if anything happens, or if he tries to contact her," I remind him.

Jake's jaw clenches with anger, and he replies, "Don't worry, I will. Everyone knows that you guys have better ways of handling things, more effective ways of dealing with assholes like him."

I don't reply, but thankfully, I don't need to as he hops out of the car and slams the door behind him. I didn't really need to reply to it anyway. He knows what we're capable of, or he's at least heard and seen enough to be reasonably sure the rumors are true. Add that into the fact that we actually offered to sort it out if the fucker tried to contact his sister, and I didn't need to confirm or deny anything to him. Not that I would have anyway, because it's never a good idea to admit to doing things that aren't necessarily legal.

I was right earlier, and the guys are all on edge and ready to go. By the time Rafe and I get back to Trick's place, they've even all got their shoes on. We don't need to go over the explanation of what happened again since Trick has already filled them all in, and they've been messaging people as well to make sure that it's known by as many people as possible that he's on the shit list.

By the time we put the movie on and actually settle down in our makeshift beds, I'm exhausted, and I quickly feel sleep dragging me under.

Please don't dream tonight.

Rafe

A shout makes all of us jump, and my eyes instantly snap in Riot's direction; just like I feared, he's fallen asleep and is having one of his nightmares.

"Fuck," Jensen curses as he quickly comes to the same conclusion as I do.

We all watch as Riot starts to whimper, his back arching like he's in pain. We can all guess what he's dreaming about, and horrifically enough, it's not a dream but a memory, a memory of his sick fucks of parents searing and carving crosses in his back, all because he told them that he liked boys and girls.

White hot rage burns through me at the thought of them and what they put Riot through; they should count themselves lucky that they're in prison because if they weren't, they'd be living his hell. I'd make fucking sure of it.

I'm snapped out of my rage as Riot yells again, and I move closer to him.

"Careful, you know he's not aware that it's you trying to help him," Trick cautions.

When we realized that Riot was having night terrors, we all did as much research as we could. It all pretty much told us that we shouldn't wake him up unless he's going to be a danger to himself, as that could potentially be dangerous for him. It means that we pretty much just have to sit it out and wait.

"I fucking hate this," Luc mutters, his eyes glued to Riot and his hands in his hair.

"Me too," I sign.

I think that's the thing that makes it so fucking difficult to watch though, is that he's obviously reliving something horrific. He's obviously terrified and in phantom pain, and yet none of us can do fuck all about it, we're all helpless, and none of us are the kind of people that handle that very well.

Every time he calls out, I move closer, I can't help it; it's like an involuntary reaction.

Of course, I pay for my need to comfort him because I get a little bit too close, and somehow, in his sleep, he senses that, and he swings for me, catching me in the leg and making it go numb. The silver lining is that swinging and actually making contact with something has woken him up and pulled him out of the dream in a way that appears to be safe.

It's definitely something that I'm going to remember; if I just need to get hit in order to pull him out of the hell his own memory is inflicting on him, then I'll do it. A couple of bruises are well worth pulling him out of his nightmares.

He looks around at us for a moment, most likely confused about why we're all staring at him, and then his eyes land on me on the floor. I don't let go of my dead leg quickly enough, and he easily puts two and two together.

"Shit," he curses, his eyes wide, "did I get you? I'm so fucking sorry."

I start signing, hoping that he'll stop his self-berating, as I also stand and prove to him that I'm fine. My leg pulsates, he got me fucking good, but like hell am I going to show him that I'm in pain. He'd just feel worse than he already does, and it's not his fault. He was in the middle of a nightmare, and I got too close.

"Don't worry about it, I'm fine." I reply with a smile and move toward him, "See?"

Taking a chance, I sit down next to him since he fell asleep on the couch and grab his hand. He holds onto it so tightly, like it's anchoring him, and I squeeze back just as tight.

The others all take this as their cue, and everyone goes back to watching the movie. Jensen quickly starts picking holes in the combat choreography and the resulting injuries, and has us all laughing when he tries to prove his point by showing us himself, only to fall flat on his ass when his clumsy curse inevitably intervenes. One movie rolls into the next, and Riot finally becomes less tense as he rests his head on my shoulder, his hand still squeezing tightly and his breathing finally evening out, signaling that he's gone back to sleep.

"If he has any more nightmares, it's going to be more than just your leg that's in pain," Luc mutters quietly, his lips tilted up into a smirk.

I smile, "Yeah, I know. Hopefully, that was a one and done thing though, he doesn't usually have more than one nightmare a night."

"True," Luc replies.

"Is your leg really okay?" Trick asks and I hadn't realized that he was still awake, Jensen started snoring around the same time that Riot went back to sleep.

"He's going to have a monster bruise on his leg. I was close enough to see how hard he hit you," Cash replies.

Luc and Trick look at me curiously, and I simply shrug; he's not wrong; I am going to have a giant bruise. Fortunately, it's winter, and I'm not wearing shorts any time soon, so Riot doesn't need to feel any unnecessary guilt about it.

"We should get some sleep. We've got to be up early tomorrow so we can head to Knox's place before we go and find Ryan to remind him that we're watching him." Trick is smiling viciously by the end of the sentence.

I chuckle but don't bother replying as the room falls silent again, the only sound coming from the TV.