Protective

Part 7

Nightmares exist outside of logic, never real, though never truly fake.

A simple scream chased away the dream she was having. It was familiar in ways she wished she knew. It had happened once before,  but there was nothing to compare it to.

There was a dull ache in the center of her chest. Nothing as to harm her, just so it's uncomfortable. As the clock ticked on, the dull ache worsened. Until she couldn't breathe. Her hands flew to her throat, clawing her way free.

Then nothing...

Turning around she could see what the scream was about.

It was her, and her abusive boyfriend. Playing hide and seek... this wasn't a memory. She wished on every star that it could've been. But it simply never happened. Only when she was asleep.

It was a continuous dream of hers, or rather, nightmare.

It scared her to death that she knew it would never happen. She knew that in this reality, her boyfriend would find her... and hurt her... she knew that things could never change. That was what scared her more than anything else.

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Janessa woke up to the continues sound of a machine beeping...

She opened her eyes, to see nothing.

Death is scary. She never liked the dark. As she could never truly see what was lurking beyond.

She lifted her arm up towards her face, only to stop just inches away. "What the-" She whispered.

After some time her vision became somewhat clearer. She looked around herself, taking in the scene.

Machines... hospital gown.

No, no, no.

'This can't be right?' She thought to herself.

She distinctly remembered being dead. The feeling felt so real. Too real.

She glanced down at her hand.

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Janessa's POV

'No, no, no. Please. Tell me I'm dreaming. Tell me this isn't real. I've got to be dead.' I thought to myself.

I snapped my face away, the mere thought of needles would nearly send me to the hospital, and just seeing one pierced into my skin made me want to faint.

Without looking I grabbed the needle with my other hand.

"Breath. In. Out. One... breathe... two... breathe..."

As I got to my second breath, a light touch snapped me out of my trance.

"Don't. touch. me!" I shouted through my teeth, my head spinning around to scold the person.

It was the boy.

Without a second thought, I ripped my hand out of his grip.

He stood there, pity tracing his eyes. From one corner to the other.

I didn't need his pity. I had enough of it from myself. I looked away before I got lost in the clouds that covered his eyes.

He gave an exasperated breath.

"You were hurt. Badly." He informed me.

No shit Sherlock.

I raised my shoulders, as if to communicate that I hadn't realized.

Then it hit me. Where was I? How long had I been out? Was Angelo okay?

I looked back at Five. His hands were stuffed into his pockets. His head tilted down to stare at his shoes. Which might I add, were far too big for him.