The Spirit Walker (BOOK ONE): The Ripple

Chapter Thirty Five: (18+) Late Nights

Hands are around my windpipe, squeezing. I can't breathe. I claw at them, my lungs screaming, black spots dancing along the periphery of my vision. I dig my nails as fiercely as I can into the hands around my neck, and am rewarded with liquid warmth against my fingertips.

I choke on the air that suddenly scorches its way down my throat, and scrabble backwards, blind from the wetness of my eyes and barely able to move for the shaking in my limbs. I do not have the luxury of recovery.

I need to escape.

Then a hand is in my braid, yanking my head so sharply my neck nearly cracks. I crumple painfully back to the earth, leaves and twigs crunching beneath my body. A blow to my cheekbone sends sparks of fire down my face and into my eye, which suddenly feels too large for my skull.

"You're going to pay for that."

My ribs crack with the force of a kick, and I can't breathe again. I curl shaking arms around my belly.

I taste copper on my tongue. I won't give him the satisfaction of my screams.

He unbuckles his belt, and unzips his pants.

I won't scream.

I won't...

I wake up screaming.

The sound is high and shrill and awful- a blood curdling, sharp as broken glass thing. It sends goosebumps down my flesh and a chill up my spine, and I raggedly cut it off as soon as I have enough awareness to realize what is happening.

The tears, though- those will not stop. I half-choke on a sob, my shoulders shaking.

There is pounding at my door, and I hear Ness' muffled voice beyond it. "You in trouble?" she demands.

I wish I could stop crying. I don't want her to witness my weakness. Not again.

"Just a- a-" another sob, another keening cry I can't quite clench behind my teeth. "N- n- nightmare," I force out.

"For fuck's sake," I hear Ness grumble. "Don't you dare wake me up again unless someone is actually killing you!"

I press my fist to my mouth to stifle the sounds, humiliated.

My entire body shakes. My teeth chatter.

I bury my head in my knees, and wrap my arms around my legs, curling into a ball, making myself as small as possible.

I whimper and scramble back into my pillows when I hear the creak of the balcony door hinges. I had remembered to lock the interior door, but had stupidly, stupidly forgotten to lock the exterior one. I am frozen in fear, eyes wide, hands in a white-knuckled death grip around my sheets.

When Calum rushes in, the relief of the threat not being real leaves me a sobbing, quaking mess again.

In a few long strides, he has crossed the room, joined me on my bed, and pulled me into his arms.

I flinch away from him, the nightmare still fresh, still real. A man's touch is the last thing I need.

One of Calum's large hands rubs circles on my back, the other gently guides my face to the warmth and safety of the crook of his neck. He hums a lullaby tune- soft and haunting and beautiful.

I bury my head into his shoulder and wrap my arms around his chest, melting into his embrace.

This is not a man.

This is Calum.

And he is exactly what I need.

The quaking of my shoulders finally stops, my eyes finally run dry. Calum brushes a calloused thumb across my cheekbone, wiping away the lingering tears. I suck in a shuddering breath.