Chapter 29 I Found You!
Aiyana's P.O.V
Sleep never came gently but now, it seems to evade no matter how I try.
It's been a few days now, and not once in these days have I had more than two hours of sleep at a time.
It dragged me under by the ankles, pulled me into dark water where memories waited with hands that never tired.
I didn’t dream like normal people should.
There were no soft images, no strange symbols that faded when I woke.
My dreams were sharp, soecific and cruel.
Donga never looked different in them.
He was always exactly as he had been a heavy presence with a looming shadow and breath that smelled of alcohol and entitlement. His voice slithered into my ears even before I saw him.
You owe me.
The room in the nightmare was always the same one. Dim and without windows.
The walls stained with the lives of people who had learned too late that desperation was a currency men like him enjoyed exploiting.
I was always on the floor, weak and dizzy. My limbs so heavy that it felt like they had been soaked in poison.
Not unconscious.
Never unconscious.
That was the worst part.
Donga liked that. He liked knowing I was aware.
That I could feel his fingers grabbing, his breath too close, his hand testing boundaries he wanted to break. He liked my body frozen in that awful in-between state, not strong enough to fight, not weak enough to escape into darkness.
I tried to scream.
In the dream, my voice never came.
“You should be grateful.” He said, crouching in front of me, fingers gripping my chin too hard. “You had nowhere else to go. I gave you shelter you ungrateful bitch”. He always growled in my ears whenever I refused him.
Shelter.
The word made bile rise in my throat even in sleep.
Every day I worked for him was a day without rest.
Without safety.
Without escape.
I scrubbed floors with bruised hands, delivered messages I wasn’t meant to read, smiled when my stomach twisted with dread. Every night I slept with one eye open, one foot always ready to kick, heart racing even in exhaustion.
Because I knew.
If I ever fully passed out…
If I ever lost consciousness completely…
He wouldn’t stop.
In the nightmare, his hand slid lower.
My chest tightened painfully.
No. No. No…
I jerked violently, breath tearing from my lungs in a sharp gasp that burned. My body twisted away from the dream, away from his hands, and straight into warmth.
A solid arm wrapped around my waist instantly, firm but gentle. A palm pressed flat against my back, grounding, real. My forehead hit a chest that rose and fell steadily beneath my cheek.
I was shaking.
My teeth chattered like I’d been thrown into ice water, as my lungs fought for air, each breath shallow and frantic.
“Easy.” Jerome murmured, voice low and rough with sleep.
“You’re here. You’re safe.” He whispered as he gently pat my head, giving me the comfort I desperately needed in this moment.
Fear still had me clutching his shirt like he was the only lifeline I had.
Jerome’s hand slid up and down my spine slowly, rhythmically.
Not demanding.
Not possessive.
Just there.
“I’ve got you.” He said quietly, laying me back down gently and himself too.
He always said that.
Even though he never talked about why he stayed in my bed.
Even though he never said that he slept better with me there.
I didn't hesitate to bury my face into his chest as I saw his arms open for me. It was never this intimate when he slept here, more like someone that just wanted my presence but this night was different.
He was comforting me
“I’m sorry” I whispered, throat tight. “I woke you.”
He exhaled softly, almost a scoff. “You didn’t.”
I pulled back just enough to look at him, thinking he would be sleepy but his eyes were open, alert.
“I heard you.” He continued. “Before you woke up.”
My stomach twisted. “I… I didn’t mean to…”
“You were whimpering.” He said calmly, as if stating a fact. “Shaking.”
Heat crawled up my neck. Shame followed close behind. “It was just a dream.”
The silence stretched, heavy but not suffocating. He didn’t push. Didn’t ask questions he knew I wasn’t ready to answer, but the memories were already spilling inside me, unstoppable now that the door had cracked open.
“There was a man.” I said quietly. “Before… before everything.”
Jerome stilled almost imperceptibly.
“I worked for him.” I continued, staring at the space between us. “Not because I wanted to, but because I had nowhere else to go and he knew that.”
My hands trembled again, but Jerome tightened his arm around me, grounding me without caging.
“He never…” I swallowed hard. “He never fully succeeded. Because I was always half-awake. Always aware.”
Jerome’s jaw tightened.
“He tried.” I whispered “Every chance h-he got.” I stuttered as my voice broke at the thought of what I suffered.
The room felt colder suddenly. Sharper.
“I didn’t sleep there.” I said, voice breaking despite my efforts. “Never. I just waited for morning.”
Jerome’s breathing changed. It was immediately slow, controlled, dangerous. I knew that stillness. I had seen it before violence.
But his voice, when he spoke, was steady.
“He doesn’t get to touch you again.” He said. Not as a promise. As a fact.
“I know.” I whispered. “I just… my body doesn’t especially after cortez.”
He shifted slightly, guiding me closer until my head rested beneath his chin. His hand cradled the back of my head, fingers threading gently through my hair.
“You don’t have to fight your body here.” he murmured. “You don’t have to stay half-awake, I'm here.” He assured.
“You should sleep.” He said quietly.
“What about you?” I asked.
He huffed softly. “I don’t sleep.”
I hesitated, then asked the question that had been sitting in my chest for days. “Then why are you always here when I wake up?”
He didn’t answer immediately.
His hand stilled in my hair. His breathing remained even.
“I don’t know.” He said finally,barter a few seconds of pause but I knew better.
He would never say it.
Jerome Black could admit he cared. Could admit desire. Could even admit fear.
But he would never say that sleep came easier when I was beside him, so I didn’t push.
I let myself close my eyes again, trusting that if the nightmares returned, his arms would still be there.
And they were.
I don’t know how long I slept, minutes or hours, but when I woke again, it wasn’t fear that tore me from rest.
It was laughter.
The door burst open with far too much energy for the quiet house, and before I could react, a small body barreled into the room.
“Uncle Jerome!”
Jerome barely had time to sit up before his nephew launched himself forward, not
at him, but at me.
Small arms wrapped tightly around my legs, face pressed into my knees with absolute trust.
“I found you!” the boy declared triumphantly.
I froze.