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You thought things were going fine between you and Freddy. Your conversations were nothing less than friendly back-and-forth, and he was nice to you.
Then the monster came out, and you were completely blindsided. You couldn’t possibly comprehend what you had done to make him this angry out of nowhere.
You were quick to escape the kitchen and get to your room, closing the door with shaking hands. It was pathetic how unstable you felt–your heart was racing but your mind was stuck at the sound of Freddy’s rage, and you hardly dared to breathe lest you start crying.
“Hey, you.” You didn’t have to look up to recognize Betty’s voice, your lover perched comfortably at the foot of your bed with her coat spread around her like a blanket. Her demeanor shifts immediately when she notices the look on your face, her head tilting to the side as worry pulls her eyebrows together. “Love, you don’t look so good. Is everything okay?”
Part of you wants to collapse into her cozy frame and start sobbing. The other part wants to beg her to leave so you can break down privately. Alas, you gave up privacy the minute you put on those Dateviators for the first time, and besides, you can’t trust yourself not to get aggressive in your desperation for space.
You just shake your head, pressing your hand over your mouth as if that will hold the noise inside. If you have to speak, there’s no way you won’t cry. Is the floor shaking under you, or is that just your own dizziness? You feel lightheaded, so that’s something.
“Oh, no,” you hear Betty murmur, and then you’re being pulled into an embrace so soft it’s like being hugged by–well, by a bed. She strokes your head gently and presses her lips to the top of your hairline. “Let it out, baby. It’ll be okay, I promise.”
That does it. You burst into tears, gripping Betty’s arms to steady yourself as you feel yourself start to hyperventilate.
It’s so stupid. You haven’t lived with your abuser for years and you still lose it when someone raises their voice at you. What are you supposed to do when a wound like that refuses to close? Why can’t you just be okay?
Betty carefully lowers the two of you to the floor, making sure to shift your body into a more accommodating position against her. She shushes you under her breath, rocking you back and forth like you’re a little kid. It should feel patronizing, but it doesn’t–not when it soothes you like it does.
The room seems to have dropped several degrees. Betty turns her head up to the vents, spotting a white-knuckled grip to the metal bars. “Hector, did you see what happened?”
“Freddy happened.” Hector’s voice is composed, but undeniably seething. Icicles curl around the edges of the metal like wintery vines.
Betty doesn’t need a further explanation. Her lips press into a thin line, and her arms tighten marginally around you. “I swear, if that fridge doesn’t get his temper under control one of these days…” She sighs, pressing another kiss to your head as if to calm herself. “It’s cold in here, Hector.”
“Sorry!” the HVAC system squeaks, disappearing into the walls. The temperature returns to the setting you originally had it at.
It takes another moment or two, but eventually, your cries cease. You feel weaker now, but better, if you ignore the burning embarrassment at losing your composure in such a way. Well, it seems crying in front of someone else is unavoidable with your 100 roommates.
“Feeling any better?” Betty cups your cheek, taking a look at your face. “It wasn’t cool, what happened to you.”
“I don’t know what I did wrong,” you whisper, your voice trembling.
Betty shakes her head and tilts your head up to see her. “No, love. There’s nothing you could have done differently. Freddy just…gets like that, sometimes.” She puts your head back on her shoulder, holding you closer. “I forgot how scary it can be if you don’t know it’s coming. I’m sorry.”
You wipe at your eyes, exhaling shakily. “Thanks, Betty.” It takes all of your willpower not to apologize. You know, at least, that your anxiety attack wasn’t your fault. “What would I do without you, honestly.”
“Your nights would be far more uncomfortable, for one,” she teases, stroking the tears away from your cheeks. “I love Koa, but he’s not built for permanent sleeping arrangements.”
You chuckle wetly, taking her wrists into your hands and pressing a kiss to each of them. “That settles it. I’m keeping you.”
She hums pleasantly, basking in your affection. Her eyes hold some remaining worry for you, but she pushes it aside. “I’m touched. Now, what do you say we snuggle? I feel like we’re overdue.”
“I’d like that,” you say.
Betty takes your hands and pulls you to your feet, then leads you to the bed.
You fall asleep within minutes of being wrapped up in her again.