Evangeline (Unedited)

29

N I G H T M A R E S
(You guys are used to my late or missing updates, do I need to say anything at this point? Enjoy...)

Cold sweat dripped down my face as I awoke with a shake. I couldn't move, paralyzed in the bed. My bedroom was lit up with the lights of the city, and the pale moonlight that felt like a spotlight on my body. I've had this recurring nightmare for years now. Every time I wake up, I can't remember it. But the feelings are all too familiar. I get this sickening nausea in my stomach, an influenza of tremulous remembrance that I can't shake off with a book or music. I'd be forced awake by some unimaginable force, like when you suddenly feel like you're falling when lying down. It's exactly that. But when my eyes finally burst open, they stay that way. I can't blink. I can't move. I can try, but it doesn't work. My chest jolts every few seconds. I'm trying to move—thinking about it desperately—but my body just won't follow, my mouth runs dry.

I feel the unease deep, deep in my nerves. Erratic, intense, malevolent.

And then I finally snap out of it. I inhale a deep breath, grasping my sheets and throwing them off of myself, practically running to my bathroom. I soaked the corner of a small hand towel with cold water from the tap, running it up and down my face and neck. I felt sick. I haven't had one of those nightmares in a while. I guess talking about the contents of it with Leo just brought it back in full force. This time, though, I didn't have my stepdad to distract me. He stayed awake at night. I was never able to figure out why. But he was, and he always checked in on me. He always found me shaking, frozen, paled, and he knew why.

Without thinking, I drop the towel on the floor, unable to think any of my movements through. I stumble out of my bedroom, the darkness of the hallway increasing the movements of the spiders in my stomach. I trudged around the corner, walking in whatever direction my feet carried me. I ended up in front of Wilbur's bedroom. I didn't knock or say anything. There was an invisible wall between my brain and my body. I inhaled a shaky breath.

"Holy fuckin' shit, they weren't lying." A voice says behind me, making me jump out of my skin.

I snap my head to the voice behind me, in the smaller dining room. It didn't take me long to figure out who he was.

He was the only boy in the entire family to have such striking black hair. He scars running up and down his arms, little pale circles on the inside of his elbows. His face was sunken, but the piercings littered in his face drew the attention away from that. He had an eyebrow piercing, and his nose had one as well. He was much taller than the twins, though to be fair, they didn't have much height to begin with. They're only a couple of inches taller than me. I have to tilt my head in close proximity to look at Lukas' face. He was closer to Theo's height—one of the tallest of my brothers.

"Evangeline, as I live and breathe." He smirks, walking forward with his arms outstretched as if going to hug me. He doesn't though, instead stopping in front of me, swinging his hands back into his jean pockets and staring down at me.

"Lukas?" I stutter out, my nightmarish state proving obvious in the way my lips move. He narrows his eyes, his grin faltering as he examines the drying tears in my cheeks and the quiver of my mouth.

"You know it." He mutters, half under his breath. He stares at me as if I'm not really there, and I swear I can see himself holding back from grabbing my face. "When Alessandro told me you were going to move in, I didn't think I'd actually get to meet you."