Page 85 of The Beast

Day by day.

I just hope he remembers it, too.

The nightmare comes that night.

I wake to the sound of screaming.

Not mine. His.

Gabe’s thrashing beside me, tangled in the sheets, his face contorted in an expression of pure agony. The sounds coming from him aren’t words—just raw, animal noises of terror and pain.

“Gabriel.” I sit up, reaching for him. “Gabriel, wake up. It’s a dream. You’re safe. You’re⁠—”

His hand shoots out and catches my wrist in a grip like iron. Before I can jerk free, he’s rolling, pinning me beneath him, his other hand closing around my throat.

I gasp, but I get no air. I can’t breathe.

Panic washes over me, cold. Hard. I struggle, trying to cry out. Trying to get through to him. But I can’t.

His hand is a vice around my throat, crushing, killing, and I claw at his fingers, but they don’t move, don’t even twitch. My lungs burn. My chest heaves, but nothing gets through.

His eyes are open. He’s looking right at me. But he doesn’t see me.

I try to say his name, but nothing comes out. Just a wet, airless rasp. Black spots bloom at the edges of my vision.

I’m going to die.

The thought is clear. Calm.

Terrifying in its stillness as my body thrashes beneath him, his weight pinning me down, and his hand tightening.

I can’t breathe, I can’t breathe, I can’t breathe.

I go limp. Not a choice. Not a decision. I just—stop fighting. My body goes soft. My mind fuzzy.

I’m limp beneath him. “Gabriel.” It’s my voice. Somehow, it’s my voice.

Something flickers in his eyes. A crack in the nightmare’s hold.

“Izzy.” My name on his lips, confused. Lost. “Izzy, I⁠—”

His gaze clears. Focuses on my face. On his hand around my throat.

The horror that floods his expression is worse than the choking.

He releases me like I’ve burned him, scrambling backward off the bed, hitting the wall hard enough to knock a painting loose. It crashes to the floor, but neither of us looks at it.

“No.” The word is barely human. “No, no, no,”

I sit up, sucking in air, one hand pressed to my throat. I can already feel the bruises forming.

“Gabe.”

“Don’t.” He holds up a hand, warding me off. His whole body is shaking. “Don’t come near me.”

“It was a nightmare. You didn’t know what you were doing.”

“I could have killed you.” His voice cracks. “Do you understand that? I had my hands around your throat, and I was squeezing, and I didn’t even know it was you.”