Fearless (Forever 7)

I rolled over, fumbling for the lamp a moment before I could switch it on.

Jax stood by the closet. His eyes were closed, and he swayed on his feet.

"Jax, what are you doing up?" I asked groggily.

He didn't answer me, or even move his head like he'd heard me. I blinked and peered at him. His face was pale, and his eyes were screwed shut.

A creepy sensation filled my stomach. Was he even awake?

"Baby," I said, my voice quavering a little. "What's going on?"

His swaying increased, and he shook his head back and forth violently. "No," he said in a strange, high voice. "No, stop."

The hair on the back of my arms pricked up and I shuddered. He sounded so eerie.

I sat up in bed, staring at him as he swayed back and forth like he was in a trance. Was this what sleepwalking looked like?

"Stop!" Jax cried, again in that weird voice, then threw a lightning fast fist at the wall that connected with a dull thud.

My eyes widened with shock. His stayed firmly closed.

This was no regular bad dream—it was a full-on, panic-inducing nightmare. And it was gripping Jax hard. He was hurting himself and he didn't even know it.

A low, keening noise emerged from Jax's throat. Head down, he pressed his scraped, swollen fingers against the wall, the corded veins in his arms popping with the strain.

My heart thudded in my chest. I had to wake him up right away. What if he broke his hand, punching the wall?

Cautiously I crept down to the edge of the bed until I was behind Jax and to his left. I leaned forward and reached out my hand tentatively, hoping to dart in and give him a nudge in his side.

But Jax staggered back, swinging his arms like he was fighting off an invisible assailant. One fist swung in a jagged arc, coming close to my head.

I ducked. His fast moving fist sent a rush of air just inches past my face.

Holy shit!

I froze as Jax regained his balance and threw himself back at the wall. His body twisted in torment, and his shoulders hunched as if he was trying to hide from unseen blows.

His eerie, childlike voice filled the room again. "Daddy," he panted, "I'll be good, I promise, just stop hurting me."

His pleading tore at my heart. I moved to reach for him but stopped, my pulse racing. If I got closer, he might hit me by accident. "Jax, wake up!" I shouted.

"No, stop!" Jax moaned, completely oblivious. With a violent and sickening thrust he banged his head into the wall.

I flung myself to my feet and wrenched his shoulders, pulling him back.

Groaning, he tore himself away from me, but then tripped and collapsed in a heap of heaving limbs on the floor.

"Please don't," he moaned, his voice still coming from the depths of his nightmare.

My heart felt like it was going to break in two as I kneeled down on the floor beside him. Jax was being tormented by his old, implacable enemy: his dad. That bastard.

I gripped his shoulders and shook him so that his head rolled from side to side. "Wake up!" I cried. His eyes stayed closed. I placed my hand on the back of his neck and stroked his sweat soaked skin. "C'mon, wake up," I pleaded into his ear.

All of a sudden his eyes snapped open. They were wild and staring. His chest heaved up and down, but he was awake.

"Just breathe, baby," I murmured with relief as I ran my hand through his tangled hair. My fingers searched for any cuts, but he was fine, thank god.

Jax closed his eyes again for a moment. When he opened them again, the scary distant look had faded.

He stared at me. "What . . . why am I down here?"

I caressed his cheek softly with a trembling hand. "You were having a nightmare. You got up, started hitting the wall. You were hurting yourself."

Jax's jaw clenched and his nostrils flared as he looked at me with wide, anguished eyes. I winced at seeing so much hurt in them, but then I shook myself. He needed me to be strong.

"C'mon, let's get you up." I took a wide stance and grabbed his hands, bracing myself to haul him to his feet. When he was standing, I gently pushed on his shoulders so that he sat on the edge of the bed.

Tremors ran through his body. Jax held up a shaking hand and stared at his scraped knuckles. His eyes widened, and his face blanched. "Did I hurt you?" he cried.

His desperate expression made me quickly drop down next to him on the bed. I rubbed his thigh. "No baby, it's alright. I'm fine."

Jax hunched over and rested his head in his hands. His squeezed his eyes shut tight. "Thank god," he whispered.

I shivered a little, remembering my close call with his fist, and draped my arm around his shoulders. It all felt so unreal. I'd thought he was getting better, but now I knew how wrong I was. It wasn't enough that Darrel had hurt Jax day in and day out in waking life, now he was possessing Jax's dreams. Making him lash out in pain. I closed my eyes as a shudder jerked through my body. I couldn't imagine how deep that pain must go.

A soft knock on the door made me jump.

I took a deep breath and squeezed Jax's shoulder. He didn't look up as I stood and opened the door a crack.

Kev was standing there in his boxer shorts. One piece of his blonde hair stuck straight up. His eyes were sleepy.

"What was that noise?" he asked in a drowsy voice.

I gripped the door knob tightly to control my trembling fingers and opened the door a little wider, but not enough for Kev to see into the room. I knew Jax would want privacy.

I forced my voice to sound calm. "Jax had a nightmare, but it's okay now."

His eyes flickered with concern. "It sounded pretty bad."

"I know," I replied with a weak shrug. "He gets them sometimes. Sorry it was loud."

"Oh, no worries. I just wanted to see if everything was okay." Kev's eyes grew heavy again.

If I kept him standing here, he'd pass out on his feet. "Thanks, I appreciate it. Goodnight."

"Mmhmm. Night."

Kev turned to go, and I sighed as I shut our door, relieved that Jax and I were alone again.

He still sat with his head in his hands, but now his broad fingers were pressed hard against his closed eyes. It looked like he wanted to escape from the terrible visions that were forcing themselves on him. The sound of his shallow and strenuous breathing filled the room, as if he found the close air to be suffocating.

I sat down next to him, and rubbed his back. "Hey," I said softly. "C'mon, let's go to the roof. It's a little stuffy in here, don't you think? Some fresh air would be good."

He picked his head up and looked at me with a haunted expression before nodding. "Yeah, okay."