Some nights, I envisioned Blake hovering over me, that sinister smile freezing my bones, his predatory gaze penetrating my very soul. His cold hands would close around my throat, and I would wake, breathless and terrified.
Haunted by Blake Hill.
Tonight was no different from most nights since our rescue two weeks earlier. I lay in their guest bedroom, tossing and turning as sweat poured across my skin, fevered tremors shaking my body.
I awoke with a scream, panting, my eyes darting around the room, expecting Blake to leap from the shadows with his knife.
The door creaked open, and I shrank lower in bed, paralyzed by fear. He’s here.
A tall figure stepped inside, and I whimpered helplessly.
To my surprise, the figure settled onto the edge of the bed and flicked on the lamp.
It was Caiden.
“I thought you were Blake Hill,” I murmured, my voice shaky.
A flash of concern crossed his face, but it disappeared as quickly as it had come. Since our rescue, we had barely spoken.
The harrowing moments we shared on that mountain felt like a distant memory, overshadowed by the realities of civilization. Even sharing the same house wasn’t enough to bridge the chasm between us. We only saw each other at night, when I sought refuge from my nightmares.
Since our return, we had both avoided one another, terrified of the emotions lurking beneath the surface. If I let myself get too close to him, I risked being hurt again. There was too much baggage, too many dark feelings that refused to fade.
That wouldn’t disappear just because we had shared some intimate moments while fighting for our lives.
We were malnourished, exhausted, traumatized. We needed to cling to one another; we needed that closeness. At least, that’s what I told myself to alleviate the sudden distance I felt.
Everything was different now. We were ourselves again, and there was no reason to hold onto a distorted bond forged in struggle.
We had faced death together; it was what anyone would do in such circumstances.
“Nope. It’s just me. Blake is dead, Amelia. He can’t hurt you.”
I scowled, hating the way he stared at me, as if I were insane.
“I know that,” I snapped, frustration bubbling to the surface. “But he’s still haunting my nightmares. I wake up feeling like he’s going to jump out and attack me.”
“I heard you scream and thought you were hurt. Good to know it was just a nightmare.” He turned to leave.
“Really, Caiden? Can’t you show at least a little empathy? How come you heard me and not Shane or Sabrina?” I interrogated, feeling a familiar flash of anger.
“A nightmare can’t hurt you, Amelia. I’d rather you have a nightmare than relive that situation with him. I’m hurting too, from what we went through, but we’re safe now.” His demeanorshifted, his voice rising with anger. “I was already awake. I couldn’t sleep. So, I figured I’d check on you after your scream.”
“Why can’t you sleep?”
He sighed, exasperation etched on his face. “Like I said, I’m hurting too, from our experience and other things. But knowing you’re physically okay, I’ll let you get back to sleep.”
He turned to leave, but a wave of cold dread washed over me at the thought of being left alone.
“Wait.” My voice trembled, a small cry filled with desperation. He paused, his hand hovering over the doorknob but not turning back.
“Can you stay? Just until I fall asleep? Once I wake up, it’s hard to drift off again. I just need to feel safe.” Each syllable was a quiet plea, layered with irony; I was begging Caiden for safety and comfort, even though his presence had kept me alive in that cage.
A part of me clung to that connection.
I expected him to walk out, but instead, he shut the door and turned to face me. He looked at me, and I could see the tension unraveling in him as I lay there with messy hair, my chest peeking out from the covers, wearing a loose shirt and flushed cheeks.
The desperation on my face must have been enough to convey the urgency of my need for safety and comfort.
