PROWESS. (COMPLETED)

Chapter 67

Anastasia POV;

My heart races. A cold hand slithers up my inner thigh sending goosebumps up my arms. Sweat drips down my face. My breathing speeds up and panic ensues when I realize I can't breathe. A hand is covering my mouth. The weight is suffocating. I start hyperventilating. A scream builds in my chest as tears leak down my cheeks. Something wet touch my inner thigh. Fear electrocutes my spine and I bolt awake. My scream is muffled by the hand covering my mouth. Instinctually, I reach for the knife under my pillow with my right hand and switch the bedside light on with my left.

My eyes quickly adjust to the sight of Jones. He puts a finger to his lips around the torch in his hand which he switches off then gestures to the door. I listen, the sound of coughing permeating the air; a light switches on under the door and I strain to hear Mum's hushed tone; "Here, Maine – put your mask back on. Your oxygen tube detached; I've reattached it now. Deep breaths, my darling." The coughing intensity subsides. The light in the hall switches off again.

Jones gently releases his hold over my mouth. "Apologies Ma'am. Your scream would have alarmed the whole house."

"Was it you touching me?" I demand in an angry whisper.

For the first time since meeting him, Jones stony expression assumes a look of horror, as if I'd slapped him. I quickly survey my duvet, pulled up to my chest and my night shirt riddled with sweat. Under the duvet I run my hand up my inner thigh where I'd felt myself touched, only to pull my hand back dripping with sweat. Jones' hadn't touched me. It had been a nightmare.

With a deep, calming breath, I relax my hold on the knife against Jones' throat. His expression of horror morphs into a knitted brow, his eyes accessing me. "Apologies. Bad dream. I didn't mean to accuse you." I tell him.

Getting out of bed, I head to the window and open it, breathing in the cool night breeze as if my life depends on it. My head clears, but the air alone isn't enough. I need freedom. The room is suffocating. Climbing onto the windowsill, I leap off with two legs and land on four.

Shaking out of my night shirt, I take off in a run. I run as far and as fast as my legs can take me, letting my Prowess take control and stretch her muscles. The woody smell of the earth and trees, the feel of moss under my paws coupled with the catharsis of relinquishing my form for another, all cleanses my being. I'm aware during the run that I'm being followed at a distance, but the scent identifies as Jones. I'm grateful he gives me space and keeps his distance.

Sometime later, I return to the house as the sky begins to lighten. My muscles ache, throbbing with fatigue, my breathing labored with exertion. Retrieving my night shirt, I chuck it back on and climb my way up the side of the house, sliding easily back through my bedroom window. I shut it behind me.

Collapsing into bed, I pray my physical exhaustion will see me into a dreamless sleep as I count sheep.