Look at me.
I shook my head.
Look at me.
I turned, slowly, raising my head to look at the mirror. The white sheet had fallen, my reflection in the mirror uncorrupted, undistorted.
I am you. You are me. There is no Devil.
It was my brown curls, my hazel eyes, my sharp cheekbones and thin lips. There was no Devil.
My shoulders dropped, a breath of air escaping the confines of my chest. I was alright. Everything was alright. The Devil wasn’t real and–
Shadowed claws burst from the mirror, shattered glass raining over me as darkness seeped into my skin. Talons tore at my shirt, burying into my chest.
I screamed, but my reflection only laughed. It laughed, and laughed, and laughed.
The room spun, glass shards flying toward me like bullets. They pierced my skin, swimming through flesh and bone. I tried to scramble away, to escape this torture chamber, but my reflection ruptured from the mirror, pinning me to the tiled wall, eyes as black as death.
It smiled; fanged teeth stained with blood, hungry for a taste of my flesh. The metallic tang of iron and rot poured from its breath as it inched closer to take a fatal bite, pain blinding my vision as everything–
“AUGUSTUS!”
My eyes snapped open, the bedroom light glaring down at my sweat-drenched body huddled in the corner of my bedroom, bed sheets twisted around my ankles. Auden’s arms were tight around me, securing me to his chest.
“It was a nightmare,” Auden said calmly, hand moving up and down my back the way I used to do it for him. “Just a nightmare. You’re okay, now. You’re okay.”
I had always tried to hold back tears in Auden’s presence, but they flowed freely now. I couldn’t contain them any longer. “I think I’m going crazy.”
“You’re not crazy,” Auden soothed me, rocking us both back and forth.
I cried myself to exhaustion in Auden’s arms. I would never forgive myself for displaying such weakness in front of him, but he was my brother, and he understood me more than anyone else ever could.
As I closed my eyes, surrendering to sleep’s warm embrace, the Devil’s voice whispered in my ear,Keep your promise, or your brother is mine.
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
“How long have you been having these nightmares?”
Dr. Rosewood leaned back in her chair, one leg crossed over the other as she eyed me over the top of her laptop. I had booked an appointment to discuss my mental health, something I never thought I would do, but after the night before, I’d grown concerned.
I hadn’t been able to determine what was real and what was a dream. And it frightened me. I did not want to turn out like my mother.
I hadn’t told Dr. Rosewood about the hallucinations out of fear I would immediately be sent for testing and assigned a psychiatrist. So, instead, to test the waters, I told her about my nightmares.
“I’ve had them for as long as I can remember,” I answered, gaze falling to the carpeted floor. “But I guess they got worse after everything that led to my mother leaving.”
Dr. Rosewood had been alarmed to hear the story of North Lane, but she’d done well to maintain professional curiosity and not press me for answers I was not willing to give. Though Ifeared if I evaded any more questions, she would give me a poor evaluation.
“I see.” Dr. Rosewood typed something briefly before returning her attention to me. “Sometimes, after a particularly traumatic event, our brain holds onto the memories to relive them, often through dreams or nightmares. It is not uncommon to experience the same recurring nightmare or nightmares with recurring themes.”
“How do I stop it?” I asked. “I am losing sleep. I’m always exhausted. I don’t know how much longer I can continue like this.” My voice cracked. I hated how desperate I sounded.
“There is therapy,” Dr. Rosewood answered. “And there are also some medications that can assist you in having a more restful sleep.”
“I’d have to see a doctor for those, right?”
“I can refer you to a psychiatrist.”
