A Dove's Tale

Chapter 120

Tending to Mother in her illness had tuned my senses to focus completely on her, no matter what I was doing - sleeping, cooking, laundry, it didn't matter. If I heard even the slightest sound from her, I dropped everything else until I knew she was okay.

So, as soon as Nokto's nightmare began, I was awake, on my feet, and rushing to his side.

I thought it was a seizure at first because his fever got too high. He was thrashing about, tangling the bedsheets and groaning, but it didn't take me long to realize this wasn't a seizure. The low flame of the single candle I'd left burning in the bathroom reflected off the sheen of sweat covering his face, contorted in shock and terror. I knew at my first glimpse of that expression that this was a nightmare. And I knew what he was seeing, too.

"Nokto," I called, touching his shoulder. "Nokto!"

His eyes flew open, and he grabbed my wrists, yanking me down to the bed and pinning me beneath him. My already racing heart sped up even more. His crimson eyes were wild and distant, hovering above my face, and he held my wrists above my head in a painfully tight grasp as he gasped for air. I stared into those eyes, eyes that I knew, struggling to remind myself that he was still in the nightmare. He didn't even know I was here. All he knew was that his mother wanted to kill him, and this time, he was fighting back.

He was still a man pinning me to a bed. Just like Jack. No, stronger than Jack. And it was taking everything in me not to fight back against him.

"N-nokto, i-it's okay," I said, trying to keep my voice calm while my heart threatened to pound out of control. "I-it's me. Ivetta."

He stared at me for a second before his eyes widened in realization. A shudder ran through him, and he released my wrists, sitting back on his heels and dragging his hands over his face. I held my breath, afraid to move, unsure what to expect, painfully aware that he was still straddling me, battling the anxiety threatening to take control and clinging desperately to my worry for him.

And then he bent over me again, wrapping his arms around my waist and pressing his forehead to my chest.

"I'm sorry, Ivetta."

I couldn't breathe. His full weight was on top of me now, his sweat and tears soaking the front of my nightgown, and I couldn't breathe. I squeezed my eyes shut, telling myself to hold still, not to scream, he wouldn't hurt me, he would get off of me as soon as he came to his senses, but my thoughts were becoming more and more scrambled. He'd buried his face in my chest, his fingers were tight on either side of my waist, and if it weren't for his choked words echoing through my mind and his shoulders shaking with sobs, I would have screamed. He didn't even know what this was doing to me. I swallowed hard and brushed my trembling fingers through his silver hair, picturing the frightened little boy who had to watch his brother kill his mother to save his life. The image was fuzzy amidst the growing panic.

"N-nokto, I - I w-want t-to help you, b-but-"

My throat was closing off. The air wouldn't come. His head left my chest, and I heard him whisper, "Ivetta?"

I couldn't take it anymore. I shoved him off and bolted away without regard for direction, ending up with my back in a corner, my hands over my mouth and my whole body shaking. Nokto stared at me in shock.

"Ivetta?" he repeated.

I closed my eyes and took a few deep breaths, sliding my hands up to cover my face. He was the one waking up from a nightmare, not me. I was here to help him. This wasn't the time for me to fall apart.

Not that there was ever a good time for that.

"S-sorry," I said, opening my eyes and dropping my hands to clench my fingers into my skirt. "Y-you should lie down. I-I just n-need a minute."