Authors Note: This chapter contains content that some readers may find disturbing. Reader discretion is advised.
Gasping, Miranda clawed her way out of darkness.
"Please... no... please," she panted to herself, the shreds of the dream still clinging to her "I'm... it's just a dream.... it's not real... just a dream.... I'm OK... please, please... oh God..."
"Shh, hey, mia amata," Mariah wrapped her in her arms, "I've got you. I've got you."
"I'm sorry," Miranda muttered, "I didn't mean to wake you."
"Not the important thing right now," Mariah said. "What happened?"
"It's nothing," Miranda took a deep breath, "Just a bad dream. It's nothing."
"You can tell me," Mariah said gently, "You don't have to... but you can."
"Just a bad dream," Miranda repeated. "I get them sometimes... sometimes he... it's just a bad dream."
Mariah gently held her hands, saying nothing, waiting.
"Sometimes," Miranda's voice quavered, "Sometimes, I remember... Always the same... trying to fight him... but I can't. I just freeze. He's so strong. So cold. His breath on my face, cold and sour... the smell of old blood."
"Shh," Mariah soothed. "You're safe. I've got you. You're safe with me."
"It's just a bad dream," Miranda's panicked breathing slowed, steadied, "I get them sometimes."
"I do too," Mariah said. "I've got you. I've got you mia amata. I'll keep you safe."
No comments:
Post a Comment