Page 27 of Where He Ended

- Chapter 11 -

Laiken

Ican't sleep.

The long shower I take helps to ease my tortured muscles, but it's not enough. The things keeping me awake can't be washed away by water. They come at me when I stretch out in my bed, creeping from the back of my mind until they're attacking without remorse.

Vahn.

Wyatt.

Franklin.

Annie.

Silas.

Kara.

Dominic.

All of them give me insomnia. Lights on or off, eyes shut or wide, nothing makes them go away. Not even a second shower.

Rolling on my side, I look across the room, where my bathroom door is cracked open and letting light leak over the floor. On the handle hangs Dominic's jacket. I put it there before I cleaned up.

If I squint my eyes just right, blurring them, I can pretend he's in here with me, guarding over me, keeping me safe. He'd tell me to go to sleep, shut my heavy eyes, and just drift off, because he's here to keep anyone from hurting me again. It's comforting enough that I let my eyes close. Sleep doesn't seem like a pointless wish.

His kindness comes at a price.

Kara's cryptic warning keeps me from relaxing. I pop my eyes open again, forced to acknowledge that the jacket is just a jacket, and I'm all alone.

But I don't have to be.

A tiny flutter begins in my heart. Sitting up, I throw my blankets aside, put my bare feet on the floor. I'm wearing a pair of gray flannel pajama pants and a long sleeved top with black piping on the seams. It's meant for wearing under the covers, not fit for wandering around in public, but fuck it. I don't care who sees me in clothes like this.

Plus, it's the middle of the night. Who would see me?Dominic?He's probably sleeping.Then why are you bringing him his jacket?I ask myself, scooping it up. I try not to think it, but the words swim through my mind anyway.Because I'm hoping he's awake, like me.

He never came by after Kara left. I wanted to talk to him and find out what he said to his parents. I was ready to attack them when we walked in. I'm not sure I can continue to live peacefully with them in this house. But what other choice do I have?

As softly as I can, I wander the darkened hallways. The recessed lighting is on its lowest setting; it's enough for me to find my way through the house. Though I probably could do it in pitch-blackness, at this point.

The carpet guides me like a breadcrumb path. I turn the corner, walking until I enter the wing of the house that Dominic's bedroom is in. The mansion is dead quiet. When I reach his door, I lean close, preparing to knock.

Wait. What if he IS sleeping?

Imagining him like me, struggling to get himself unconscious, makes me frown. How awful would it be if he'd just fallen asleep, and here I am, about to rip him awake? Lowering my hand, I grip the jacket. I'm not sure what to do now.Maybe I can listen and hear something.Then, if he IS awake, I can knock without guilt.

Turning my head, I press my ear to the wood. I strain to listen for any hint that Dominic is as wide-awake as me. The surface of the door is cool. It sticks to my skin, my eardrum thudding, making every tiny sound funnel through to me.

Then I hear it - a faint, undeniable gasp. It's a terrible sound, but the next tortured moan is even worse. Dominic is in pain! Who's hurting him? Who woulddare?Flaring with a need to protect him as much as he's protected me, I shove my way into his room.

It's dark, his small window letting in a bluish hint of moonlight. He's thrashing in his blankets like he's being attacked. Lines crisscross his face, his eyes crunched tight. “Stop,” he groans, twisting his body deeper in the blankets.

Perspiration glistens on his forehead and his naked chest. His teeth are bared in a grimace.He's having a nightmare,I realize. Starting forward, I grab his forearm. “Dominic,” I whisper. Then, louder, “Dominic! Wake up, you're having a bad dream!”

“Let me go!”he roars, curling his huge hand around mine where it touches him. My world spins; he's ripped me off the floor, tackling me on the mattress. I stare up into his frightening, but somehow terrified, expression. His eyes are wide open now, darker than the shadows inside a closed coffin.

He isn't seeing me.

---