Chapter 4: Chapter 4: Scary Dreams
Maggie wakes up and can't get back to sleep due to her bad dreams. She tries to stay awake but is exhausted to the point where she just slips off into dreamland. She is in for a very rude awakening.
This chapter was originally combined with another one but it was too long so you get the next one next week. So this chapter doesn't have much but it does have some fluff.
//TW//
This has references to abuse in it and vaguely detailed scenes of abuse.
Maggie's night doesn't leave her quite rested. She was fitful, being pulled in and out of slumber from the lingering anxiety. Her night was filled with night terrors that seem to paralyze her with fear. The little detective's head was filled with crime scene photos of the survivor, she was painted in purple and blue bruises, also with red ones that have not had a chance to heal. She can hear the tapes of her yelling for mercy, they mix with the tears she's seen her very own mother make.
Usually, Maggie is good at compartmentalization. It's in between the lines in the job description. To be a good cop, you have to know when to turn on and off these emotions, that's what she's been taught. Every now and then, everyone gets a case that hits too close to home.
With the rising misogyny due to the uptick in women reclaiming themselves outright and publicly, men seem to want to counteract these movements.
The detective has seen her fair share of domestic disputes and abuse cases. Even ones that have involved whole families. She has shut off the side of her brain that would make that kind of connection, but this time, it's different.
She doesn't know what it is, maybe it's the bruise pattern or the cries, but she can't turn her brain off this time. Not to this, it makes her remember, remember too much. She wishes she didn't, life would go by a lot smoother.
The Latina has had nightmares that vary in degree. Some she fend off alone, unbeknownst to her sleeping counterparts. Others, sometimes she wakes up screaming, sobbing, whimpering. Sometimes she wakes in a cold sweat, or they have to wake her up themselves because of her thrashing and reluctance to break out of the horror herself.
They always ask her if she wants to share what the dreams consist of. Maggie would sometimes lie and say it was a case, which wouldn't be totally a lie. Sometimes the cases do trigger it.
Other times, she is too upset with herself, she brushes off their concerns and says that it's nothing.
She knows they don't believe her but they stop pushing anyways.
Maybe one day she will have the courage to let them further into her head, but right now, if she can't face her demons, how could anyone else help?
The only thing Maggie has shared about her past without being prompted was her last exchange with her father when she was a teen. They know why he decided to kick her to the curb, and they all had some choice words at the end of that discussion. Of course, that was also paired with some red wine and sweet nothing for the rest of the night.
They don't know that the tiny detective at the tender age of six, had to start playing doctor and clean up the bloodied and bruised face of her mother. They don't know that she would hide butter knives under her bed at night, just to feel extra safe from her sheriff's father. They don't know that she had to help her mother hide her bruises. They don't know that she also had to hide some of her own. Long sleeves and turtlenecks in the middle of a summer heatwave gave her looks, but at least they weren't the looks of pity she would get if she decided to inch up the hem of her shirt.
For Maggie, some days were good, actually, the best. He would take her out for ice cream after. He would let her play at the arcade when a bruise was healing too slow. That always made her happy, her love for him was always still there.
She looked up to him so much, she decided to become a cop, even after he disowned her. A part of her was still wanting his approval, his love and attention, whether good or bad. She just wants to be her dad's little girl. He always said she would be, so why couldn't he keep that sacred promise?
She realized a couple of years in when she had gotten the ropes of what it means to serve her city, that she wasn't doing this for him. She was doing this because of him.
She has come across many victims and survivors alike, she wants to help. That's what it comes down to when being a cop.
The abuse that she and her mother endured, the fighting, and the yelling. She wants to prevent that from happening to someone else, or at least help them through it. Like her latest case, the victim got out, but she was barely a day away from being six feet under.
Her most daunting current dreams were filled with snippets of her past, the survivor's face flashes in between with her mom. They are calling for help, asking her to clean up the bloodied mess.
Maggie wakes with a bit of a start at around five in the morning. She sits up slowly, her body protests, wanting to sink back into the comforting warmth she was just concealed in.
Her mind won't let her drift though, even though her eyelids sag and her body's slow in its movements.
"Well I'm not getting any more sleep," she thinks.
She looks between both her girlfriends and smiles a bit at their sleepy faces. They are always so beautiful in the mornings, she always stops to think how she got so lucky.
She is too anxious to try and get back to sleep in the bed so she slowly crawls from out of the middle.
"For someone who has superhuman hearing and a literal trained secret agent, they sleep like the actual dead sometimes."
She drags fluffy and blanky along with her to the couch in the living room. She sets them down gently and grabs the remote to turn on some cartoons.
The detective rarely stays little for long, most rarely of all in the mornings. At night if she drops, she wants everything to return to normal. She thinks if she indulges too much, she will get used to feeling so light and free, and that's not how adult life works.
This morning, she doesn't have much energy to focus on the "big" aspect of her life. She wants to be free and cozy and happy, her big life can't provide that right now. Her little side can hand over all the fuzziness it brings.
She settles in on the four-seater couch with her stuffy in hand and blanket half draped over her legs. She puts the TV to Mickey Mouse, puts the volume on mute, not wanting to hear any loud noises at the moment.
As she lies down, she feels something poke out from her mouth.
Have I been sucking on this the whole time?!
Her face scrunches up into an irritated pout. Her hand goes to take it out fully but her eyes catch the white bandages that still wrap around her tender fingers.
She takes a few conscious sucks, likes the feel almost as much as her fingers. She settles back in with her blanky pulled a bit further up her body. Maggie hugs Fluffy like no tomorrow and turns her attention to the doggie dancing on screen.
Her binky still bobs in and out in a rhythmic motion, like the soothing piano music she likes being played sometimes when she is having a rough day.
Maggie wiggles her hand from underneath the soft comforting warmth her blanket provides, she lifts her good hand to her ears and starts playing with them softly. This is another soothing move for her, they are soft and floppy and sometimes it tickles, it makes her laugh.
The brunette's eyes are glued to the TV, in silence, the colourful cartoon plays in the background. The only sounds are Maggie's breathing and the occasional suckle. This is the picture of peace, and Maggie is grateful for this silent moment, no more buzzing.
About an hour later, the soother ministrations, along with her hand's movements with her ears bring her such a semblance of peace, she starts to drift. Her eyes droop, but she still fights the sleep that wants to claim her. Maggie knows what could be waiting for her in the dark corners of her dreams, she is not looking forward to seeing those shadows.
But soon enough, her eyes flutter every so often to the point they are closed longer than open.
She decides that sleep has won this battle. Maybe this peaceful morning has reset her brain, maybe she will get a good rest after all. Even if it's just for a couple of hours. Maggie lets out a content sigh and opens her eyes for the last time before they flutter shut. Slumber takes her moments later.
//
The next chapter finishes Maggie's POV for now then we move on to Lena's story. Maggie suffers a bit and has been her whole life, but she will get used to it.
Again tell me what you think I should add or what you would like to see.
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