Broken Nightmare

Chapter 12

 My body feels discombobulated as I slowly feel myself waking up. My head swims in confusion, trying to remember what happened. I'm grasping at straws as I finally remember everything that happened.

Spencer's lesson, Nathan carrying me to my room.

I blushed as I remembered my endeavor with Nathan. I remembered the tingles I felt when I touched him. What was that? And how did he get to that room in the first place? It's not like he was in there during my lesson.

I glanced over at my nightstand. 9:24 blares through the darkness around me.

As if on cue, my stomach growled, reminding me I've been sleeping all day and has had nothing but breakfast to satisfy me. Making a mental note of the warning Nathan gave me this morning, I climbed out of bed so I can get some food.

I thought some more about Nathan's warning. Why would it matter? She's not close enough to smell me, right? I'd hope not. Besides, I'm just getting some food, not going outside.

I've just reached the bottom stair when I hear a loud piercing scream followed by a long muffled moan, and without thinking, I turn and race towards it. Following the sound to the dining room, finding Trysten and Nathan on the floor, their clothes torn, both of their mouths dripping with blood, while Claire thrashes and moans underneath Trysten.

"Elana!" Nathan shouts, springing to his feet and holding me back as I lunge, fight, and kick desperately to get to her.

"What have you done to her?" I shout, glancing between them, then seeking Claire's pale skin, her eyes rolling back in her head, and knowing there's no time to waste.

"Elana, Please, stop," he says, his voice sounding way too sure, too measured for the incriminating circumstances he's in.

"What have you done to her?!" I scream, kicking, biting, hitting, screaming, scratching, using every ounce of my strength, but it's no match for him. He just stands there, holding me with one hand, while absorbing my blows with barely a grimace.

"Elana, please, let me explain," he says, dodging my furiously kicking feet that are aiming right for him.

As I stare at my friend who's bleeding profusely, grimacing in pain, a terrible realization sweeps right through me—this is why they tried to keep me away.

"No! That's not it at all. You've got it all wrong. Yes, I didn't want you to see this, but it's not what you think."

He holds me up high, my legs dangling like a rag doll, and despite all my punching and fighting, he hasn't even broken a sweat.

But I don't care about Nathan or Trysten. I don't even care about me. All I care about is Claire, whose lips are turning blue, as her breath grows alarmingly weak.

"What have you done to her?" I glare at him with all the hate I could muster.

"Get her out of here, Nathan! Now!" I heard Trysten yell angrily from the back somewhere.

"Elana, please, I need you to listen," he pleads, his eyes begging mine.

Despite all my anger, despite all my adrenaline, I can still feel that warm languid tingle of his hands on my skin, and I fight so hard to ignore it. Yelling and screaming and kicking my feet, aiming for the most vulnerable parts, but always missing since he's so much quicker than me.

"You can't help her, trust me, we're the only ones who can help," Nathan said, gesturing to Trysten.

"You're not helping her, you're killing her!" I shout.