Every night, Van slept in the attic with you. And every night, you got horrible nightmares. She hated waking up every night to heavy breathing, to tears, to shaking. Waking up to seeing you like that. She was the only thing that could calm you down.

The only good thing about the arrangement was that it brought her closer to you. Slowly, she began to trust you fully and completely, and love you overwhelmingly, as did you.

So every night you shoot up or wake in a cold sweat. She’s right there, soothing you. Brushing your hair, kissing your knuckles, kissing you—

So when you wake after seeing Jackie dead again, she wakes as well. Routinely seeing you upset. It never stops hurting. You were her girl. It sucked ass. Especially because you two were so, so similar, it evoked strong emotions in her too. Seeing you so vulnerable made her think of herself the she was upset. As a byproduct, she tried entirely too hard to be strong for you. Sometimes you just wished she’d sit and cry with you. Even if you did love her kissing your knuckles and telling you you were alright.

“Again?” Van asks gently, her voice horse, even if it’s more of a statement. Her hair is mussed, eyes cloudy with sleep, drowsy and warm in her bundle of blankets on the attic floor. Even still, she looks concerned. She never stops caring.