My nightmares were worse than normal. Thankfully the eyes were red and not blue or orange or even green of dragon who killed my sister. That was a new one – Margo’s green eyes staring back at me as the tentacles fell on my skin. I didn’t know I was afraid of Margo until that dream. Maybe my avoidance of her has been that. My father has been trying to talk to me about it all for the past few months, but I’ve been avoiding any conversation that starts with ‘have you seen Margo?’. So much so that Sage doesn’t mention her name, but I know he’s asking about it all the time. And I know he’s been talking to her about me. I know Dorian and my father have been talking to her too. The only thing that is good about that is that they care enough to make sure I’m not in need of a therapist.
Even Adrian is keeping tabs on my mental health. He’s can’t really help me much, but he at least will make me see someone if he thinks it’s needed. And I know Sage is talking to him about it too. Margo has tried for years to get me to change my habits around my therapy, I guess it took her betrayal for me to do that.
I managed a yoga workout in the wee hours this morning after m nightmares. Some of the boys were still stumbling around. They are going to regret it in an hour when we wake their asses up and they are drunk off their asses and hiking for most of the day to our camp site.
It is a 4 hour hike on a good day. Today it looks like it’s going to storm. I can hear thunder in the distance. We are going to get wet. I should probably pick up a parka from commissary before we leave, would hate for my hair to have to be redone. There is a shit kitchen down the hall, I need to make breakfast – it might be my last decent meal for a little while, until the boys learn to catch real food. Hell, I might not have a decent meal for 30 days. Le sigh.