Nightingale

Chapter 10

Chapter 10

In the Light of Day

The night was only a couple of hours from turning into dawn when we finally succumbed to fatigue. The many candles scattered about the room burned low, their flames now soft flickers. I drifted in and out of consciousness to the rhythmic sound of Michael's heartbeat. I felt so content curled up next to his warm body. This had to be what they meant by happily ever after - it couldn't get any better than this. I felt a chill come over me and snuggled closer to Michael. He reached across with his free hand and circled his fingers around the back of my neck. His fingertips felt like ice against my skin. I squealed playfully and tried to wiggle away. His grip tightened painfully around my throat as he pushed me hard into the carved oak headboard. Panic consumed me as I grappled helplessly against the ever tightening hand around my throat. I froze with fear as the soft glow of the candles illuminated his face. I watched in horror as Michael's face twisted sickeningly to become Jake's. His lips spread unnaturally into a sneer. His head jerked violently to the side and I screamed as blood splattered across my face. I watched blood ooze from the hole that appeared in his right temple. He turned his face slowly back towards mine, his dark eyes now glazed over to a milky blue. "Soon," he whispered and held the charred baby shoes barely inches from my face. I shut my eyes hard and struggled to free myself. The smell of deteriorating flesh filled my nostrils.

"Sam!" he yelled as he shook me. I fought against him wildly, pummeling his chest as hard as I could. "Open your eyes!" he screamed while I struggled free. I was scurrying backward on my hands and knees toward the end of the bed before I dared open my eyes. I opened them to see Michael, bathed in the mid-morning sunlight lunging across the bed to grab me before I toppled off the end. Still unsure if it was really him, I pushed myself off the bed and sat with my back against the footboard. I wiped my face frantically to remove the blood splatters, only to find nothing. I pulled my knees to my chest beneath the long sleeved button-up I donned from Michael's closet only hours before and rested my forehead against my knees. The nausea was so strong my mouth watered. I forced myself to take deep breaths hoping to clear the putrid smell from my nose.

Michael knelt before me and reached to stroke my cheek. I screamed and swung wildly as he rocked backward and threw his arms up defensively. "It's me, Sam!" he yelled.

I reached for his face. "It's really you this time?" I asked cautiously.

He took my trembling hands in his and kissed my palms. "It's me, baby. You had a nightmare. It's okay now," he soothed.

I lunged forward and wrapped my arms tightly around his neck. He stroked my hair while I shook so uncontrollably it felt as if I were convulsing. "I'm sorry," I whispered and pulled away from him. I held my midsection and swallowed hard against the persistent nausea.

Michael's brow knitted in concern. "Are you okay?" I nodded, afraid if I opened my mouth I would vomit. "Your bad dream wasn't the first one, was it?" Again, I nodded so I wouldn't have to speak. "Do you want to talk about it?" he asked and brushed my cheek with the back of his hand.

I whispered, "I can't...not now, okay?" I stood and walked toward the bathroom.

"Maybe later, then?" he asked with a mixture of concern and confusion as he followed me.

I lifted the handle of my overnight bag and stretched the other hand in front of me. "I need...I need a few minutes. Besides...I really don't think you would understand," I said quietly.

"Give me a little credit, Sam. You might be surprised." He bordered on pleading as I shut the bathroom door behind me. "I'll be downstairs if you need me," he called through the door.