Disclaimer: Mine is mine, while Marvel's is Marvel's!

She tosses and turns in bed, her hair matted and tangled and sweaty. She'll have a heck of a time getting all the knots tomorrow, and I wince thinking about the amount of cursing I'm going to hear coming from the bathroom.

But then my thoughts are drug back to the here and now, and watching her dream.

I reach down to touch her cheek, but stop before my fingers can come in contact with her sweaty flesh. The last time I touched her in her sleep, she woke up screaming. I still can hear the strangled sounds in my ears, and I force the memory away.

It hurts to much to think of what she sees in her dreams.

What kind of horrors must she relive every night? What happened to her, what scarred her so badly that she can't sleep without dreaming anymore?

Who hurt her so bad?

Some times I lay awake beside her, listening to her breath, watch her toss and turn, and pray to the Lord that whoever did this to her gets what they deserve. It's not a very Christian thought; but what man can watch the woman he loves suffer and not think it?

I know that I can't.

She's so fragile and scarred, no matter how tough and hard she pretends to be. To often, I've walked into a room, and found the telltale marks of tears on her cheeks. She'll deny it if I ask her, but I know that they are there.

Every time she's cried has be burned into my memory with a red hot iron poker.

No one deserves what's she gone through. No one deserves to wake up screaming. No one deserves the scars I know she hides, on her body and on her heart.

No one deserves the scars on her soul.

I hate that I can't help her, but what can I do? If I force her to open up, she'll run away and hide inside of herself. And I couldn't bare to lose her now, now when she needs me the most.

So I bid my time, waiting for her to open up to me.

It isn't easy, waiting for her. But I'll do it, because I love her, and because she loves me. Because she loves me, as much as she can, as much as she is able to.

I don't think that anyone else would have waited for her.

My friends tell me that I'm a fool for waiting, that I should have moved on, found another girl that isn't so scarred. Find another girl who doesn't flinch from my touch sometimes, another girl that wouldn't have so many problems.

Find another girl that doesn't need me as much as she does.

That's part of the reason I stay---she needs me. She's never said it, but I think she does. Every so often, she look at me with this need in her eyes, and I swear, I would give her to world if she asked me too.

If she asked me too.

She's never asked that of me though. But sometimes, the things she doesn't ask for are harder to give her then the one's she does. They take more, more of myself, more of my soul. More then I've ever given anyone before, so much that I'm afraid that I'll lose myself in the process.

But then she looks at me with those shining eyes, and I'd do it again.

She stirs beside me, finally waking from the dream. I feel her press up against me, looking for warmth, for comfort, for me. I pull her into my arms, and kiss her ear softly.

I'm never going to let anyone hurt you again, Tabitha. Darkchilde's Stories