Mori.
My lungs still and panic seizes my chest.
He’s completely unclothed, that old deep wound that I’ve had visions about scores down his sternum just as I foresaw, a tattoo surrounds it, tracing his underlying bones.
“Mori?” My voice is lost to the darkness, coming out muffled and dull. He smiles as if he heard it, grabbing my wrists and pinning them to the ground.
A roar of sound pierces my ears as lights blur out everything around me. I shut my eyes quickly and as I do, the weight of Mori dissipates.
I hesitantly open my eyes and find myself now surrounded by a forest. The ground is cold beneath me and I’m sitting just a few feet away from a fallen cadet. His uniform is black, a small symbol on his right chest pocket: the lettersDFare encased in a gold circle.
His face is covered in blood, and I don’t recognize who he is.
As I’m about to draw closer, his head snaps up, eyes off-center and bloodshot as he says, “You know what happened to me.” His ominous words are impossibly loud and reverberate through me as a shudder runs down my spine.
My eyes flash open and I’m met with the bottom of Mori’s top bunk.
I take a few deep breaths to collect myself before slowly sitting up and looking around just to be sure that I’m actually awake. Once I verify that I am, I deflate and swallow the knot in my throat. Sweat clings to my back and has completely soaked through my shirt.
That was horrifying, I reflect as I quietly slip from my bunk and grab a spare set of lounging clothes before tiptoeing toward the door. I spare a glance back to make sure I didn’t disturb anyone and am relieved to find that even Mori is still motionless in his bed. A soft rhythm of snores fills the room.
I’m glad I didn’t cry out in my sleep. What a nightmare that would’ve been. I wash my hair under the hot water and lather my body with woodsy scented soap.
Who was that man with the odd message in my dream? My scrubbing slows as I try to place him in my memory to no avail. His features were too hidden by the blood that stained them. The only thing I am certain of is the fear and horror I felt in that moment. It was too vivid to just have been a dream.
That was someone I once knew. Someone who I now believe to likely be dead.
I wrap my arms around myself and let the hot water wash away the dreadful images. Then I recall what was happening just before in the darkness.
Mori.He was consuming me, feeding on me like he couldn’t get enough.
My stomach flips and heat collects low in my core. I swallow the saliva that plumes on my tongue at the thought of his fingers deep inside me, his mouth sucking on my flesh so fervently.
I cover my face with both hands and slap my cheek a few times.Not him.That must’ve just been a stress-induced dream. Even though it felt as real as the following one, I can’t let myself believe that me and Mori were physical before.
For crying out loud, he won’t even tell me his real name.
The fresh clothes are a relief to be in. I decide to leave my hair down until it air dries, then I’ll attempt braiding it.
It can’t be that hard to do on my own. I practice moving my fingers the way I remember Mori doing and stare down at my hands as I’m exiting the communal showers. The moment I take the turn back toward our squad’s dorm I smack into someone.
The blood drains from my face and I gasp loudly. Hands flying to my mouth to stifle the sound.
I whisper shout, “You scared the shit out of me!” My eyes driftup, then farther up, finding Mori towering above me, gazing down with doubt in his gaze.
Oh my God, why? Why him of all the times and places? Why now after such a heated dream?
He firms his mouth into a rigid line as I take a huge step back. “What are you doing up?” he asks suspiciously.
After the dream I just had of his tongue inside me, my head is completely empty of excuses. I can’t even give him a reason why. My cheeks flush and I turn abruptly, fully intending to march straight back into the bathroom and wait for my hair to dry rather than speaking with Mori in a dark hallway while everyone else is asleep.
His hand catches my wrist. I jolt at the warm contact of our skin. My pulse leaps into my throat.
“Emery, what’s wrong?” he asks with concern blooming in his tone.
I shake my head and try to sound fine. “I had a bad dream.”
His hand flinches, perhaps becoming aware of the contact between us, before loosening and sliding down to my fingertips, then letting go.
