"Stay here, sweetheart. You know you aren't supposed to leave the garden."
I bolted up so fast I tumbled out of bed, legs entwined in the covers. I hung there, hands braced against the carpet, disoriented and panting before I realized where I was and pushed myself back up.
I struggled not to hyperventilate as the dream played back.
Eden. Garden.
Oh God. My dream. My wonderful, beautiful dream. It wasn't a dream at all, but my sleeping brain prodding me with the reminder of another life, another me.
I pressed my palms to my eyes and sat there, struggling not to cry. Of everything to cry over, this? Foolish. And yet...
I swiped away the first threat of tears, then popped a sleeping pill, swallowed it dry, and lay back down. Sat up and popped another one. Sleep didn't come quickly, but it did come.
I woke again in the dark, groggy now. I'd dreamed ... No, I hadn't been dreaming. Something else woke me. I lay there in the darkness and listened. Getting up and flicking on the light would be the smart move, but panic buzzed, deep in my skull, telling me to stay where I was.
Lie still. Look. Listen.
There was nothing to see. The room wasn't completely dark--I'd been too tired to close the curtains properly and a strip of moonlight bisected the floor, the end dissolving across the bed. I looked around at the landscape of shadows and saw just a dresser and a bed and a tiny table, with its single chair.
Hadn't there been two chairs before? I was about to lift my head when that buzzing in my skull stopped me.
Lie still. Look. Listen.
The table was barely two feet across. Too small for more than a single person. I was misremembering the second chair. It wasn't as if I'd taken careful inventory.
Nothing to see, then. Nothing to hear, either. No, I could detect sounds. The mumble of a distant television. The screech of a passing car. The clatter and sigh of the water pipes.
In my room, though, I could hear only the soft in-and-out of my breathing. A faint rasp to it, like the first tickle of a cold. Exactly what I needed. Did my throat ache, too?
I moved my hand to touch my throat. Something rubbed my wrist.
No, something rubbed around my wrist. I'd taken off my watch. I knew I had, and this wasn't the rub of a gold band. It was softer, smaller. Like a cord--
That buzz of alarm shrieked before I could jerk my arm.
Don't move.
There's something around my--
Don't move!
A hiss of breath. I froze and I swear my bladder convulsed, with a tingle deep in my groin that had me clenching tight.
I clenched everything tight, going rigid as I strained to listen.
Breathing. Quiet breathing, ragged and raspy at the edges.
Not my breathing.
Where's the second chair?
I knew without turning my head. There was only one place it could be, the only spot too dark for me to see, the same spot the breathing came from.
The other side of the bed.
I moved my hand, barely an inch, sweat beading as I struggled not to jerk or pull suddenly. There was definitely something around my wrist. Soft, loose. Another inch. It started to tighten.
I closed my eyes an