The Sinister Silhouette

It’s then that he turns his head, and I get a glimpse of his eyes.

His electric blue eyes….

I WAKE WITH SCREAMS filling my ears. I spring up to a sitting position and realize the awful noise is coming from me. My throat feels raw and my mouth is dry. Terror grips me, and my hands automatically move to my throat, feeling the aftereffects of being strangled. Warm, rough hands grip mine and my eyes slide to Luca. The fear doubles for a moment before I sag back in relief.

“Jesus fucking Christ, Jules,” he says hoarsely. “You scared the shit out of me. You were screaming, and I couldn’t get you to stop.”

I look at him closely and see the anxiety and worry in his eyes. Eyes that match the ones in my dream. These aren’t evil though. They aren’t cold or angry. They radiate tenderness and safety. They also leave me confused.

“I’m sorry,” I mumble.

“Fuck,” he growls and hauls me into his arms. His warm embrace soothes me. His smell surrounds me and calms my quaking nerves. I rest my hand on his bare chest and feel his rapid heartbeat. I press myself closer to him and use the beat to slow my breathing.

Eventually, we both calm down. Luca pulls back and looks at me with a frown.

“What in the hell was that?”

I shiver as I remember the dark presence and what he did to the Jules I was watching. I don’t remember it happening, but I know that wasn’t just a dream. It was a memory. My hands shake as I grip the blanket in my lap and sweat breaks out across my forehead.

Wrongly interpreting my shiver as me being cold, Luca pulls the blanket around my shoulders.

“Jules, baby… what’s wrong?”

“I-I-I saw…,” I stutter. I clear my throat and try again. “The day I was hurt. I saw what happened. I was there, but I wasn’t. I saw myself open the door and there was a black presence that came in the room. He said he wanted me. He grabbed me by the throat and said he was taking me with him, but not before he had a turn.”

Tears leak down my eyes and bile rises in my throat at knowing what the dark presence meant by him taking a turn.

“Fuckin’ son of a bitch,” Luca snarls. He flings the covers off him, and I start to panic when he gets up from the bed.

“No!” I yell and reach for his arm. “Please don’t go.” My voice cracks.

He doesn’t turn back to me, but he doesn’t walk away either. He just stands there beside the bed, his chest heaving with each raspy breath he takes. My heart breaks for the both of us. I know the thought of him hurting me has broken something vital inside of him, and it kills me because I also know there’s nothing I could ever say to fix that broken part.

He sits on the side of the bed. His shoulders droop as he rests his elbows on his knees and drops his head in his hands. The grip he has on his hair has to hurt, but I think he wants the pain. His back is stiff, and I can see the quivers in his bicep as he reins in his emotions.

Cautiously, I scoot closer to him. I put a leg on each side of his hips and slide forward until they cradle his legs. My chest meets his back and my arms wrap around his stomach. I lay my head against his back. His heartbeat is just as erratic as before.

One of his hands grips mine, and at first, I think he’s going to push me away, but he doesn’t. Instead, he lifts it and places it over his heart.

His voice is rough when he speaks. “It should be me comforting you. I’m a sick bastard for what I’ve done. I should be rotting in hell right now, not being comforted by the person I hurt.”

“Luca—”

“Even if you don’t remember what I did, you still shouldn’t want anything to do with me. My touch should repulse and frighten you. I fuckin’ repulse and frighten myself, because if I’ve hurt you in the past, I’m capable of doing it again.”

“Stop!” I demand. I try to pull my arms free so I can move around him and see his face, but he holds me in place.

“It’s true, Jules,” he says gravely. “What if whatever switch that went off seven years ago goes off again? I wouldn’t fucking survive it if I ever hurt you again.”

This time I force him to let me go. With a kiss to the center of his back, I climb from the bed. I flip on the lamp on the small table beside the bed and wedge myself between his legs before getting to my knees and sitting back on my heels. His head is no longer in his hands, but it still hangs, his hair falling forward and blocking my view of his face.

When he lifts his head and I get a good look at his eyes, the stark pain I see in them makes my heart feel like someone drove over it with a semitruck. The pain is crushing and has me sucking in a breath.

This man isn’t simply feeling sorry for himself. His guilt is all-consuming and slowly obliterating him.

I grab his hand and lay it against my cheek. “Do you know why your touch doesn’t repulse or frighten me?” I ask quietly. He shakes his head. “Because it’s gentle and soft. It makes me feel safe and protected. It doesn’t take or force, but gives and soothes. It isn’t cold and unforgiving. It’s warm and gentle. That first day, even through the panic attack I had, I still felt a connection to you. One that, after I calmed down, intrigued me. One I wanted more of. Those few times you visited me while I was sleeping, my dreams didn’t torment me. Even if you didn’t know it, you scared my nightmares away. You’re a good man, Luca. You take care of the people you love. You protect and cherish them. Aria adores you. So do your parents and Ella. I don’t remember what happened before, but whatever was in you then, isn’t now. I have zero doubts in my mind that you would never hurt me.”

His expression is pained as he listens to me, but his eyes never leave mine. Once I’m finished, he slides his hand to the back of my head and pulls me forward until our foreheads meet.