Slay (Storm MC 4)

I tried to run to her, but my legs were like lead, and I couldn’t lift them.

Fuck.

He slipped his hands in her panties, and she screamed until he slapped her.

I tried yelling for her again, but she didn’t turn to me.

And then my legs moved, and I ran to her.

As her attacker thrust inside her, I finally got to them, but she still couldn’t hear me. And when I stood right in front of her, she looked straight through me as she screamed her horror into the air.

“Ashley!” I begged her to hear me, but she couldn’t.

I didn’t exist to her.

I sat bolt upright in bed, my skin clammy with the sweat the dream had induced. So much sweat tonight.

Fuck.

I turned to the bedside clock.

Four fucking am.

Jesus fucking Christ.

I threw the bed covers off and stalked into the bathroom.

Deja-fucking-vu.

I’m getting sleeping pills today.

I angrily splashed water on my face and leant my hands on the vanity, staring at myself in the mirror. The exhaustion was getting worse and manifesting in more anger than I usually felt.

Except when you’re with Layla.

Yeah, you fucked that up, asshole.

I snatched the towel up and dried my face before throwing it across the room. I slammed my hand down on the vanity and roared, “Fuck!”

Three days without seeing her, and I was losing my shit.

Motherfucking fuck.

***

Scott greeted me at his front door four hours later and raised his brows at me. “How many days since you’ve slept?” he asked as he held the door open for me.

“Too fucking long,” I muttered as I entered.

“Yeah, that’s pretty obvious.”

He led me down the hallway and into the kitchen. “Coffee?” he asked.

I nodded and grabbed a stool at his kitchen bar. “Who else is coming?”

“Nash and J,” he said while making the coffee.

“I’ll be honest, Scott. I can’t fucking find Blue, and I’ve never had that problem.”