Wait, I’ve been here before. I remember all of this.
I know what’s on the other side of the door. And it isn’t salvation or hell.
It’s something way more.
It’s love.
It’s him.
It’s King.
I push my way through the crowd at a breakneck pace, not caring who I knock over or into, and I reach for the handle, throwing the door open and stepping into the dark without the bone-rattling fear I carried with me over the threshold when I entered the first time all those years ago.
“King?” I ask into the dark room.
There’s no answer, but movement catches my attention. On the bed, a shadow shifts, swinging long legs over the side of the mattress.
I leave the door open and rush to the bed to stand between his legs. I place my hands on his knees. “King?” I ask again, growing worried when my only answer is lingering silence.
After what seems like an eternity, the shadow sits up, his face illuminated from the light of the open door.
I gasp.
King’s face is hard and angry and…different. The scar over his right eyebrow that is usually barely noticeable is now raised, cutting a jagged red path diagonally across his nose and lip, ending at his jaw.
“What happened?” I ask. Moving my hands from his knees, I close my fingers over the belts wrapped around each of his forearms.
“Who the fuck are you?” he asks in a deep, gravelly voice. He shakes his arms, freeing himself of my hold.
I search his eyes for recognition but come up as blank as his faded green stare.
“You really don’t know who I am?” I ask, hating the trembling words that fall from my lips.
He leans closer, and just when I think he’s going to snap out of whatever fugue state he’s in that’s caused him not to remember me, the corner of his mouth ticks up in an amused smile. “Oh yeah,” he says before his smile turns flat. “I remember now.”
He stands, and the surprise of the movement knocks me to my ass. He leans over me and grabs my throat, squeezing my airway shut. My sight grows fuzzy around the edges as I struggle against him but it’s no use. There’s no getting out of his hold.
“You’re the one who did this to me. And now, you’re going to fucking pay.”
As his angry face fades and my vision goes black, I hear myself croak out my final words. “But I love you.”
The last thing I hear is the echo of his laughter.
“Pup, wake up. Wake the fuck up!” I hear a scream, and my entire body is shaking. It’s not until sleep releases me completely when I realize I’m not shaking so much as being shaken.
My eyes shoot open to find King standing over me much like in my dream. He’s got a worried look in his bright green eyes.
He helps me sit up. My breathing is still labored. My body covered in sweat.
“What the fuck was that all about?” King asks, smoothing back my hair.
I blink several times to clear the sleep from my head. King raises an eyebrow. The one with the scar. It’s barely noticeable for the exception of the hair to the left of it because it has no pigment in comparison to the black on the other side.
“Pup?” he prods.
I tear my eyes from his scar. “It was a dream.”
King scoffs. “More like a nightmare. You leapt off the fucking bed and fell to the floor like you were having a seizure. Scared the living shit out of me.”
“The floor?” I look around, and sure enough, I see clear under our bed to the bottom drawer of the nightstand on the other side.
“Yeah, the floor. You were making a choking sound, and for a second, I thought you stopped fucking breathing.” He runs a hand through his short dark hair and blows out a breath.
“I’m fine,” I assure him, pushing to my feet the best I can. Before I can take a step, King gathers me in his arms and carries me back over to our bed, laying me down gently as if I were made of glass. “I said I’m fine.”
He shakes his head. “I know, and I said you scared me,” he says, leaning over me.
“It was just a bad dream. I didn’t mean to.”
“Do you remember what it was about?” King cups my cheek in his rough palm, then rests it on my chest, feeling the pounding of my rapid heartbeat. “Come on. It’s not just the nightmare. You haven’t been yourself lately. Tell me what’s going on in that beautiful head of yours.”
“I’m just…” I wave my arms over my belly. “This.” It’s not entirely the truth. Being pregnant has something to do with how I’ve been feeling, but there’s been something else as well. Something lingering over me like a shadow I can’t lose. “Nothing to worry about. Just ate too much pizza before I went to bed. Crazy, pregnant dreams ensued.”