A short snipet of a book I'm working on, tell me if you want to see more!
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She dreamt of Erik; his face deteriorating to dark particles and being blown away over and over again. Like the way the sand in the desert is carried away by the wind, they are blown away, bit by bit, until he is unrecognizable. Suddenly, she looked down, the tips of her fingers were being turned to ash and blown away, carried by the raging whirlwind that surrounded her. Soon, her wrist, her arm, her feet, and her legs were all gone. She saw her reflection, looking back at her, slowly falling apart. The ashes reached her waist and she felt a piercing pain as her skin was ripped away to reveal her rib cage, surrounding her beating heart. Emilee awoke with a gasp, and her eyes snapped open, filled with tears. She clenched her hands around handfuls of her sheets and shivered deeply, her entire body trembling. The painful despair was clawing at her throat, like a hungry animal who wanted to squeeze out more tears.
She knew she had to be quiet to not set off the alarm. Unlike the regular dorms, the dorms for the powerless did not have the heavy surveillance needed to keep those not under mind control with exceptional powers in check. They simply had motion sensitive detectors, only set off by drastic movements.
Em slowly rolled to her side and catiously slipped one side of her body off her bed, her heart pounding in her throat. Her toe touched the cold, smooth, hard wood floor. Her breath caught in her mouth as the camera shifted. It set off no alarm, and returned to it's original position. She crept the foot or two over to Rodney's bed, which was next to her's, and slowly climbed into the covers. Making no sound, she hesitantly reached out her hand to touch him. She paused, and studied his face, and how calm it was so deep in sleep. Emmie slowly ran her finger tips down his jaw line and his eyes opened. He looked at her, admiring the way the moonlight bounced off her cheeks and the tousled, radiant, red hair that shown almost maroon in the dark, ominous night. Her forehead was damp from sweat and her hands were moist. She moved closer, propped up on one elbow and mouthed to him, "Night mare."
His eyes filled with sympathy and worry. He wrapped his arms around her, and pulled her down next to him, holding her tightly. He was angry, and he felt it was the wrong emotion to be feeling. Rodney just wanted to take all the burden off her shoulders and carry them on his own. "We'll go to her office in the morning," he murmured, almost inaudible, "We'll set everything straight then, okay?"
She nodded weakly, melting in the comfort of his warmth. In his arms was the only place she really felt safe. He smelled like soap, laundry detergent, and a bit of starch, the sterilized version of the Rodney she knew. The Rodney that, after that kiss, she realized she loved.
