The Man of My Dreams

Chapter Fifteen: A Cry for Help

Mia couldn't remember how long she stood frozen in her apartment after Ethan left. Her pulse raced, her body still trembling from the confrontation. She wanted to believe it was all a nightmare, but the echo of Ethan's voice, the cold grip of his hand on her wrist, made it impossible to dismiss.

She stared down at the fresh bruise forming on her wrist, the same spot where they had appeared before. The ache was real. Ethan had been *here*, in her apartment, in her life, in ways she never could have imagined. And yet, as the terror faded, a deep confusion took hold. How had this happened? How had he slipped past the barriers of her waking life and dreams?

Her fingers shook as she reached for her phone. Neal. She needed Neal.

Without thinking, she dialed his number, her mind buzzing with a frantic need to hear a familiar voice—someone who could make sense of this, someone who could tell her she wasn't losing her mind.

"Mia?" Neal's voice answered, sleep thick in his tone. It was the middle of the night, but she didn't care.

"Neal—" Her voice cracked, and she hated how small she sounded. "Neal, I need you."

His tone shifted immediately, concern replacing the grogginess. "Mia, what's wrong? Are you okay? Where are you?"

"At home," she whispered, tears pooling in her eyes as the words tumbled out. "Ethan—he was here. In my apartment. He—he's been in my dreams, Neal, for weeks. And now he's here."

"What do you mean, he was there? Did he break in?" Neal asked, his voice tight with worry. She could hear him moving, likely getting dressed.
"I don't know," she stammered. "I don't know how he got in. He just—he was here, standing in the doorway, like he's been watching me all along. He said things, things about how we're connected, how he's always with me." She paused, sucking in a shaky breath. "And the bruises, Neal. The bruises from the nightmares—they're real. I don't know how, but he's been doing this to me in my sleep. And I—I can't stop him."

Neal was silent for a moment, processing the weight of her words. "Mia, this isn't normal. What he's doing—it's dangerous. You need to get out of there right now. I'm coming over."

Mia shook her head, even though he couldn't see her. "I don't think I can leave. What if he's still watching me? What if—"

"Mia," Neal interrupted, his voice steady, the calm in the storm. "You're safe. He's not there anymore, right?"

She hesitated, glancing toward the front door as if expecting Ethan to reappear. "No. He left."

"Okay," Neal said, his voice softening, but the urgency still present. "You're going to be okay. Just stay on the line with me until I get there. We'll figure this out together."

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------Fifteen minutes later, Neal was at her door. He knocked softly, his heart pounding with worry as he waited for Mia to let him in. When she finally opened the door, her face was pale, her eyes rimmed red with exhaustion and fear.

Neal pulled her into a hug without a second thought, holding her tight as her body trembled in his arms. "It's okay," he murmured. "You're safe now."

She didn't resist, letting herself lean into the comfort he offered, but even Neal's warmth couldn't erase the chill that clung to her skin. After a long moment, she pulled back, wiping at her eyes.

"I don't know what to do," Mia whispered, her voice barely above a breath. "It's like he's everywhere. In my mind, in my dreams, and now in my apartment."

Neal guided her to the couch, sitting beside her, his hand resting on hers. "Tell me everything. From the beginning."

Mia exhaled shakily, and the story poured out of her in broken pieces—how the dreams had started so beautifully, how Ethan had been a presence that felt familiar and comforting. But then things changed. The nightmares crept in. The bruises appeared. The door that wouldn't stay closed, the window that always opened. And tonight—Ethan standing in her apartment, claiming he had always been with her.

As she spoke, Neal's expression hardened. By the time she finished, his jaw was clenched, his knuckles white where his hand gripped the edge of the couch.

"Mia, this isn't just some dream thing," he said, his voice low. "This is real, and it's dangerous. Ethan has crossed a line—a huge one. You can't brush this off as something in your head anymore. He's manipulating you, both mentally and physically."

"I know," she whispered, her voice hollow. "But... I can't explain it. Part of me feels like I'm trapped. Like I can't get away from him, even when I try. He's always there."

Neal's heart ached seeing her like this. He had always known there was something special between them, even if she didn't see it the way he did. And now, this man—Ethan—was poisoning her mind, trapping her in a twisted reality that was slowly unraveling her.

"You need help, Mia," Neal said firmly, taking her hands in his. "Not just from me. Professional help. A therapist, someone who can help you process what's happening and figure out how to protect yourself from him."

Mia stiffened at the suggestion. "I don't need—"

"Yes, you do," Neal interrupted, his voice gentle but insistent. "Look at what he's done already. He's gotten into your head, made you question your own reality. He's hurting you—physically and emotionally. You don't have to deal with this alone."

Tears welled up in her eyes again, and she squeezed his hands, her grip tightening as if she was afraid to let go. "But what if he's right?" she whispered, her voice trembling. "What if I can't escape him?"

Neal shook his head. "You *can* escape him. But first, you have to understand that this is manipulation. He's not some mystical force you can't fight. He's a man who's using whatever means he can to control you. And you need to fight back, Mia. You need to take control again."

Mia's lip quivered as she absorbed his words. She wanted to believe him, wanted to believe that she could break free from the hold Ethan had on her. But the fear, the confusion—it all felt too overwhelming.

"I'll help you," Neal said softly. "We'll go see someone together. Someone who can help us make sense of this. But you can't keep letting him push you around like this. You deserve better."

Mia wiped at her eyes, nodding slowly. "Okay," she whispered. "I'll do it. I'll talk to someone."

Neal smiled, relief flooding through him. "Good. That's the first step. We'll figure this out. You're not alone in this."

For the first time that night, Mia felt a small flicker of hope. It was fragile, but it was enough. Enough to make her believe that maybe, just maybe, she could take back control of her life.

But deep down, a shadow of doubt still lingered. Ethan was powerful—more than she had ever imagined. And she wasn't sure if even professional help could sever the connection he had so carefully crafted.

Still, with Neal by her side, she was willing to try.

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