Wait. My walls weren’t beige, and my TV wasn’t mounted—wait—I was with Sarah. Was she hurt? Where—
“No!” she screamed, and from the corner of my vision I saw movement—and a flash of silver.
What the hell? I reached up, her frail wrist landing solidly in my grip, and I was yanked the rest of the way into reality. She stared at me with wide, unseeing eyes, tears streaming, her jaw clenched, and she was breathing hard.
“Sarah.” I turned toward her, holding her hand away from me. Where the hell had she gotten a knife?
She pushed back on my hold with impressive force. Her eyes stared blankly at me. “Please, don’t make me do it. He hurts me, Nicco. He…cuts me.”
Oh my God.“Sarah. It’s me. Drey.”
“Don’t touch me. Don’t! Get your hands off.” She went to push the knife at me. “I won’t let you keep—” She coughed as if she were choking. “Stop. Please. I can’t…”Cough. “You’re hurting…me.”
With her other hand, she clawed at her throat.
“Sarah. Please. Baby, please…” I sat up, my heart ripping to pieces with each of her gasps. Each tear. God. Who was Nicco? What was he doing to her?
“Just let me die.” She sagged to the side, the fight leaving her. “I want…to be free.”
“Sarah!” I knew this was a night terror, my little brother Damon had had those when he lived with me. But this…holy shit,what was she reliving right now? Someone was hurting her. And…she wanted to die?
She stopped moving, and stared at me. I hated the sight of those beautiful green eyes so blank yet filled with fear. They were cold and dark. And distant. She had no idea who I was. Hell, she was probably still seeing that Nicco guy.
If I ever got my hands on him…
Sarah grunted, and it was like shackles fell from her eyes.
“Oh, God!” She dropped the knife and pushed me away. Scrambling back as if I were the devil himself, she screamed. “Get away. Get away from me!”
“Shhh.” I held up my hands in surrender working to keep my heart in my chest. It’d ramped up so hard and fast. “It’s me. Drey. Sarah. It’s Drey.”
She clamped her hands over her mouth and screamed into it. “Oh my God. Oh my God. You’re…I…Oh God.” Her focus shifted down, but I didn’t move. I kept my hands up, showing her I wasn’t going to hurt her.
“You’re safe. It’s okay. Baby, look at me. Do you know who I am?”
Tears streamed down her face. “You can’t…be here. Can’t…see—” The sobs took control.
I leaned forward and she tensed, so I stopped. That’s when I felt the pain. It took hold like a set of fiery teeth gnawing up the side of my leg. Blood splattered across the white sheets like a crimson stain on fresh snow.
The adrenaline must have pushed it back in the moment, but the pain hammered down on me now like a tsunami on the shore. I bit the inside of my cheek to stay in the moment and not flinch.
First, I didn’t want her feeling badly.
Second, I didn’t want to scare her if I moved too fast.
“It’s okay, baby. I’m fine. I’m going to take a look.”
She fisted her hair, tears streaking down her face like a black-mascara-tinted waterfall.
I worked my fingers through the sliced jeans until I met flesh and felt around. The cut wasn’t too deep, but it was about three inches long from what I could tell. “I’m going to look at it. Hold on. It’s okay.”
Opening the hole in my jeans wider, I had a better picture, even with it being so dim in here. The cut was fairly superficial.
“It’s fine. Just a scratch.” The weapon lay between us on the bed. I so wanted to know where that thing had been hidden, but I figured now might not be the best time to ask. “Are you okay? Are you—”
Her body shook with sobs. I moved closer, and she said, “Don’t. Please…don’t.”
“Okay. I—I’m going to get up for a second.” I pushed back and slid off the bed to my feet. Oh, that hurt like a son of a bitch when I flexed my quad. “Just going into the kitchen for a towel. Can I get you a drink?”