Afterlight (Fanfiction) ✓

chapter thirty-five

The Southern California sun was blazing, as I stood on the corner, watching the cars go by, so I could walk home from the party at the beach. Brad was going to be worried sick about me, I had already been out an hour later than I was expected to come home.

It had already been midnight.

I knew I had a shortcut, but it was dangerous. It had been an alley, lurkers around every corner, waiting for me, so that they could snatch me up alive. I had to get home, but this traffic had been telling me otherwise.

With my beach towel under my left arm, I turned around, running down the alleyway.

Everything in my mind had gone blank.

The monsters were going to eat me alive.

I began to run faster, and faster, and faster.

Go, Chloe, Go.

I sprinted faster than a bullet to find a dark figure in my sight. I saw nothing but black.

My heart kept telling me – Go, Chloe, Go.

My mind grew with disarray. The world was spinning around me.

Illusions, Illusions, Illusions.

I turned around to see I had come to my final conclusion. There was a lurker out to kill me, I should've known that from the start.

Finally, the figure pinned me to the brick wall, snatching out a knife. The face of the figure was gone.

I looked down, only to see the knife held to my forever racing heart.

* * *

Jay

HER whimpers and soft pleas lingered in the still air, a fragile echo that pierced through my chest like a dagger. I clenched my jaw, the tension tightening in my limbs, my throat thick with the weight of something unspoken. Gently, I massaged her shoulder, my touch tentative as though the smallest pressure might shatter her entirely.

Then I shook her, careful but firm, the movement coaxing her from the shadows of her nightmare. She bolted upright with a small gasp, her eyes wide, her face pale beneath the dim light. "Justin?" Her voice cracked, hoarse and broken, followed by a heart-wrenching sob that tore through the quiet.

Without hesitation, I gathered her into my chest, my arms encircling her tightly as if to shield her from the weight of her own fear. "I'm here," I whispered, the sound a fragile lullaby. I pressed my lips to the crown of her head, my eyes closing against the swell of emotions threatening to drown me. Fear radiated off her in waves, suffocating, but beneath it, there was a spark—a flicker of resilience.

Minutes passed before she began to ease into my embrace, her sobs dwindling to soft tremors against my chest. "Bad dream?" I asked quietly, my lips brushing her hair as I placed a tender kiss against her head.

She nodded, though quickly added, "It's nothing serious, probably just a side effect from the drugs yesterday." Her voice was barely above a whisper, muffled as her head sank deeper into my chest.

I tightened my arms around her, combing my fingers through her hair, the strands slipping through my fingers with a gentle touch. Her breath hitched, catching, and then she began to pant softly. I felt it—her tension, the tremor in her body—and it clenched my chest tighter, making it hard to breathe.