"This is where it happened," he said in a hush, wrapping his arm around my shoulder. "This is where you died."
I nodded, unable to see clearly through the tears.
"Do you remember now?"
I blinked the tears free and stared at the grey Cape, sunken within the shadows of the neighbors' trees. A "For Sale" sign hung in the miniscule front yard. It looked so much smaller than I remembered. I got lost in the dark windows. So much pain lay hidden behind them.
"Where did it happen?" he asked, his voice faint like a whisper in my head.
"In my room," I rasped, my eyes shifting to the side of the house. Jonathan took my hand and guided me closer. My pulse raced with each step. He led me along the wooden fence that bordered the neighbor's yard.
"Where?" he asked again.
I pointed to the second window. "Here." I trembled beneath the white framed window, her voice seething from the other side, I am not losing my family because of you. I shivered.
"Emma, what happened to you?" he probed, not letting me go.
Staring into the dark, I was swallowed into my nightmare. Tugging at the restraints around my wrists. "I couldn't move," I murmured. The fabric upon my face. "And I couldn't see." Jonathan's arm tightened around me. Struggling beneath her weight. "I tried to get away, but I couldn't. Then... then I felt her hands..." I blindly touched my neck, still able to feel her cold claws. I shuddered. "I fought so hard. There was... pain..." I breathed in quickly as it streaked through my body, "my ankle..." I clamped my eyes closed. Banging and muffled cries. "But then I just... I just gave up."
I bowed my head with a gasp and tears ran over my nose.
"But you didn't, Emma. You didn't give up. You're here."
"I don't want to be here anymore," I whispered.
"Okay," he said, his lips next to my ear. "Okay, we'll leave."
I stepped away without looking at him, and he let me go. I walked back to the truck with my head down, trying to release the crushing pressure in my chest. I'd just stepped into one of my nightmares. And I was fighting so hard to get back out.
38. Covering Up
"Good morning," Jonathan smiled from the chair across from me with a blanket over his lap. "You slept."
I took in a breath and blinked. "Have you been there all night?"
"Do you mean, all morning?" he teased. "But you slept."
"You didn't sleep?" I questioned, pushing myself up to sit, the weariness still lingering despite the few hours of rest.
Jonathan shrugged without answering, but continued to wear a smug grin.
"Oh, don't start thinking you cured me or anything," I said, suddenly realizing what was behind the grin. "Just because I slept for a few hours, it doesn't mean the nightmares have vanished. We'll see if you deserve the pat on the back when I go to bed tonight. Besides, they don't happen every night, and you know that."
"You are really good at this denial thing, aren't you?" he laughed. "You have no idea what's going on until you can't ignore it any longer."
"Yeah," I huffed. "I love not sleeping at night, and just want to prove you wrong."
"That's not what I meant," he grinned wider, but before I could question him, he stood up, leaving the blanket on the chair. "Are you hungry? I have... cereal."
"Thanks, but I should get to Casey's," I returned, standing to stretch my legs with my arms extended above me―feeling the ache in my neck and back. "Your couch isn't very comfortable to sleep on."
"It's not meant to be slept on. I offered you the bed," he shrugged. I didn't respond. I hadn't exactly been comfortable with that offer.
I picked up my phone and slid on my shoes. I scanned through my missed texts from Casey, and the one response that wasn't actually from me. "Thanks for texting Casey for me last night."
"I didn't want her to worry," he replied, pouring cereal into a bowl. "She thought it was you. I don't think you'll have to tell her where you were."
I nodded, not sure how that explanation would've come out anyway. I still didn't know what I would say if she ended up asking. But then again, Casey wasn't the curious type, so I hoped to avoid the inquiry altogether.
"I have to stop by Rachel's to get my shirt for the game tomorrow," I remembered out loud with a groan, sliding on my jacket.
Jonathan paused, appearing concerned.
"Don't worry," I assured him. "She should've left for work by now. Speaking of which, aren't you going to be late?"