<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'">The vibration of the message tickled her palm as she moved to the bathroom. She turned on the sink faucet, letting the water run as she opened the text. Her once pensive expression softened so that a smile could form on her lips, amused laughter emitting from her as she read the gracious, but ridiculous titles he had bestowed on her. Looking back on the moments that had earned her them, they seemed much more adventurous and daring. Her thoughts often traveled back to that night, running through the woods from a vicious monster and then dancing away the stress of the evening. To the kiss on the pool table and the one in the parking lot, the way they laid comfortably entwined in the cheap motel room, she was eager to see him again though patience and caution tempered her excitement to some degree. But, she paused when she peered from the door and into her room, to the large painting resting on the easel. Ava was hesitant to snap a picture, send it to the Hunter so that the depressing image could appear on his phone. Pressing her lips together she turned back to the mirror, using her nail to scrape away the paint she’d accidentally smeared onto her cheek. She then washed her hands, the dark colors that came away from her fingers and palms swirling down the drain. <br/>
</span><br/><div style="text-align: center"><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'">***</span>​</div><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'"><br/>
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<i> “It’s an unusual case of night terrors. They’re not uncommon in children, especially around her age, but she remembers the things she sees with great clarity. Usually, those who suffer them aren’t able to recall specific details from their dreams. It’s possible that the source of the night terrors are from some past trauma that she’s manifested in the form of monsters, also very common. It says here in file that she was abandoned at school?”<br/>
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“Yes, she lived with her grandfather-- an old family friend. He dropped her off one day and never came to get her. She managed to find her way back home, lived there all by herself for Lord knows how long-- without power, running water, or food. I can’t imagine how scared she must have been.” Claire explained, her voice muffled through the glass as she spoke to the white coat. Frederick was watching her draw, taking drab colored Crayons to the paper she was given. “If she hadn’t got caught stealing soap and toilet paper, who knows how long she would have been on her own.” <br/>
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“That kind of isolation can be a breeding grounds for a number of mental illnesses and psychological disorders. I’d highly recommend therapy. This early, she has a real opportunity to become a healthy, well-adjusted individual with the right help. As for the episodes, and the sleeplessness . . . I’d like to say they’ll become better with time, but with her kind of trauma I don’t foresee that happening anytime soon. Many parents with children who suffer from night terrors are reluctant to seek medication, and many doctors won’t recommend it. If they’re as bad as you say they are, I can give you a referral for a sleep study to determine if that’s necessary.” The white coat said, “Why don’t you talk it over with your husband? I’ll be in my office to better discuss your options based on what you decide.”<br/>
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“Thank you, Doctor.” Claire stepped inside the room, through the open door behind Ava’s little back. She smiled softly at the silly sound of Frederick’s voice, trying and failing to put a smile on her face. Ava simply continued to draw, answering his questions--seemingly-- whenever she felt like it. Whenever she wasn’t too frightened to speak. <br/>
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“And, what’s that you’re drawing next? Is that his hat?” Frederick pried gently. “That looks like a silly hat.” Her drawings weren’t as refined then, the crude and ill-conceived picture was less literal. <br/>
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“Horns. Big horns like a goat.” She answered in her tiny voice.<br/>
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“Like a goat, huh?” Frederick worked his jaw thoughtfully, keen eyes honing in on the exaggerated details she had already created. “May I see these?” He asked, waiting for her to nod to take the stack of papers she was bearing down on, the ones she’d drawn with the doctor. He stood slowly, his features turning grave as he looked to Claire, turning one of the photos to her. Her face paled, all the color draining from her cheeks as though the heat left her entire body. Frozen solid, she could hardly move, let alone speak. <br/>
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“Is that . . . ?” Claire breathed, her tone so slight that it was barely a whisper. She recognized the Demon; black with gangly limbs and intimidating claws.</i> Horns. Big like a goat. <i> Frederick raised his hand, a silent gesture for her not to say another word. <br/>
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“Avery, when did you see this one?” He asked, lowering himself down to her level once more. As kind as his eyes were, he couldn’t seem to rid them of the concern. “Did you see this one when you were alone, by yourself?”<br/>
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She looked up, examining it briefly. “Last night. It showed me it’s chest . . . Like this.” Ava indicated to another scribbling, a hole with small faces in agony. “They were very sad.” An instant later she was wrapped up in a pair of arms, her face buried in soft blonde hair. She’d never been hugged so hard, had never seen them both so sad. </i> <br/>
</span><br/><div style="text-align: center"><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'">***</span>​</div><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'"><br/>
</span><br/><div style="text-align: center"><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'"><b> Sure. When I’m done, I’ll send it to you. </b></span>​</div><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'"><br/>
She replied after she dried her hands, immediately starting on the next message to quickly change the subject. <br/>
</span><br/><div style="text-align: center"><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'"><b> Also, couldn’t have and wouldn’t have done any of that stuff without that Country Boy from the Middle of Nowhere. Give yourself some credit ;) But, thanks for taking the initiative on some of that. I can’t say that I’m absolutely thrilled that you’re doing things without me, but I suppose if it’s to scratch an itch you can’t exactly reach right now, I can’t blame you. I’ve been keeping myself busy on account of the same thing.</b></span>​</div><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'"><br/>
Watching movies, helping her mom garden, and playing chess with her dad; anything to stop herself from having those invasive and passionate thoughts. She was less likely to have them if her mind was engaged in something action packed, distracted by her mom’s humming, or sitting across from her dad. It was an instant means of quelling the erotic imaginings that appeared when she thought of him, stop the ache she felt that demanded to be acknowledged every night she rested her head on her pillow. All she could think of was his calloused palms running along the softness of her flesh, caressing every inch of her while her lips indulged in the taste of the whiskey on his tongue. She wanted to be completely wrapped up in his, nothing between them but the heat of their own bodies while they lost themselves in pleasure. Ava had to stop herself before she got too worked up, moving quickly to find herself another distraction. She turned on the lamp beside her bed, pulling a book from the drawer of the nightstand. The warmth of arousal began to diminish gradually, and though the words on the page were not as enthralling as the idea of his body atop of hers, it was not so powerful that she couldn’t resist. Her back resting against pillows to prop her up, she read comfortably in her bed, the lamplight softly illuminating the page. <br/>
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She wasn’t sure how long she was reading when a catching melody caught her ear. Her green eyes darted to the phone beside her, widening with surprise to see that the Hunter was calling her. Since they’d been apart their interactions had been limited to messages, and her first instinct was that he had gotten himself in trouble. Ava grabbed it quickly, “Hey, are you--” Her concerned tone was clipped by an apology on the other line. Before she could probe further she heard the pluck of a guitar string, a familiar tune playing in the background clear as a bell in her ear. A smile slowly blossomed onto her lips till she was beaming, her laughter quiet so as not to disturb the new sound that accompanied the twang of the guitar. Hanging on his every word she laid back onto the pillows behind her. She turned onto her side, placing the phone beside her while she listened as he sang, able to be as smitten as she wanted to be in the privacy of her room. A part of her once believed that she wouldn’t have liked such a thing, that it would have been cheesy and lame, but she found herself swooning to the sound of his voice. It was, quite possibly, the sweetest thing anyone had ever done for her romantically. <br/>
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“When I imagined the next time I would hear your voice, it definitely wasn’t like this. I liked it . . . And, If I had known that you could carry a tune I would have made you sing the Pina Colada song instead. I see another night out in our future.” She said when he finished, the strings no longer strumming and his voice silent. Ava was able to hear the same chirp of crickets in the background, the volume letting her know that he was outside and in his ‘mobile home.’ “Why did you apologize when you answered the phone? I thought you were in trouble.”</span>