I open my mouth to scream, but then all hell breaks loose as another man appears, and it’s clear he’s not with them. He yells at the men, startling them, and to my astonishment, he somehow rips me away from the two holding onto me. I’m slung away so hard that I stumble, right myself, and then turn back to watch in horror as the man with the knife lashes out. He catches my savior in the face, and blood blooms bright.
Once again, I open my mouth to scream, but nothing comes out. My throat is frozen, and I go dizzy when the knife is rammed into my hero’s stomach.
He pulls the knife out with shaking hands, turning to look at me, those warm, amber eyes riddled with pain and fear.
“Run,” he cries hoarsely.
I know I should, but I’m rooted in place, horrified at the violence and that this very brave person has risked his life for me.
Maybe has given up his life for me.
I have to help him.
“Run,” he rasps, and I’m only jolted out of my indecision when one of the men somehow has a crowbar, and he hits the man in the back of the head. My rescuer collapses to the pavement, and all three evil assholes drop on him, kicking and punching.
I know I only have a few seconds before they remember me.
I run.
As I do, I think the man on the ground is calling out for me to help him, and I’m confused. I stutter to a halt and look back.
He reaches out a bloody hand and calls, “Please.”
But I can’t.
If I go back, surely I’ll get stabbed and beaten and probably raped. I’ll be as dead as that guy.
“Help me,” the bloodied man implores. “For the love of God, help me.”
My fear of death and pain outweigh my bravery, and I spin away. I take off running, and I don’t look back, even as the man repetitively calls for help.
I know I’m going to hell one day for my cowardice, but it’s not going to be today.
Through the parking lot, alongside a building, I cut down a short alley.
And slam into something hard and… wet.
I stumble back, and it’s the man who just tried to help me back there. His shirt is covered in blood from the stab wound, and the cut to his face is bleeding so badly, I can only see the glow of his amber eyes.
His face is twisted in agony as his hands press against the abdominal wound. Voice weak but clear enough that I hear the condemnation, he says, “You left me to die, and I’ll never forgive you for it.”
I scream in fear and confusion and most of all, guilt. I scream because no doubt I’m going to hell.
Something tears me out of the nightmare. I sit up straight in bed, my heart thudding and my lungs heaving. My mouth gapes, and my throat feels like razor blades have sliced into the tender flesh. Am I coming down with a cold?
I’m disoriented, in a bed and a room I don’t recognize in the beams of moonlight coming through the shades.
The bedroom door flies open so hard, it bangs against a dresser, and a hulking, dark figure stands in the shadows. I almost scream, but the light blazes on, and even though it hurts my eyes, I see Baden there, wild-eyed and fearful. He’s wearing a pair of shorts, and his hair is a mess.
He looks around the room and then his eyes land on me. “Are you okay?”
With a shaky hand, I push my hair from my face. “Yeah… I think so.”
“You screamed,” he says, moving to the edge of the bed.
“I did?” I’m confused. I screamed in my dream, right?
A dream so real, I can almost smell the coppery tang of Baden’s blood.
A vicious shudder racks my body as it all rushes back, and I can’t help the pitiful moan that escapes my lips. I pull my legs up, knees almost to chest, and wrap my arms around my shins. Dropping my forehead, I hug myself hard as more shivers take hold.
“Jesus,” Baden growls, and next thing I know, he’s climbing into bed and forcing me into his arms. He pulls me right onto his lap and wraps those strong arms around me. I’m curled into a ball with my cheek against his warm chest.
Resting his chin on my head, he asks, “Want to tell me about it?”
I shudder again, feeling both feverish and cold at the same time. My stomach is tight with anxiety, and my pulse hammers so hard, I hear a slight roaring in my ears.
God, that was the worst dream I’ve had yet of the attack. So much more terrifying than the others.
And not right.
Distorted.
It didn’t really happen that way.
Baden is warm and strong, and yet I can’t seem to latch on to the reality of him holding me. Instead, I see him covered in blood, looking at me with condemnation.