She leans closer, her lips inches from mine—
A sound jerks me from sleep—a whimper, soft but distressed. I bolt upright, disoriented, my hand automatically reaching for the gun on the nightstand. The digital clock reads 2:37 AM.
Another whimper. Scout?
I swing my legs over the side of the bed, wincing as my injured thigh protests. I assume the dog needs to go outside. Grabbing my crutches, I make my way across the hall to Ella’s room, where Lana is staying.
The door is ajar, and I push it open quietly. In the dim glow of the nightlight, I see Scout pacing back and forth beside the bed, his nails clicking softly against the hardwood. He looks up at me with worried eyes, whining low in his throat.
“Need to go out, boy?” I whisper.
But Scout doesn’t move toward the door. Instead, he turns back to the bed, where Lana is thrashing beneath the covers. Her face is contorted in fear, her head moving side to side as if trying to escape something—or someone.
“No,” she moans, her voice small and terrified. “Please, don’t. I can’t—”
I move to her side, setting my crutches against the wall. “Lana,” I say softly, not wanting to startle her. “Lana, wake up. You’re dreaming.”
She doesn’t hear me, trapped in her nightmare. Her hands clench the sheets, knuckles white, her breathing rapid and shallow.
“Please,” she whimpers. “I’ll do anything. Just don’t hurt them.”
The raw fear in her voice cuts through me like a blade. I sit carefully on the edge of the bed and touch her shoulder. “Lana. It’s Caleb. You’re safe.”
She flinches away from my touch, a sob escaping her lips. “Please stop,” she pleads with her invisible tormentor. “I don’t want to do this… think of Kori.”
Scout jumps onto the bed, circling once before settling against her side. He licks her cheek, his instincts telling him what she needs.
I hesitate, unsure if I should wake her forcefully or let the nightmare run its course. But when she cries out again, her voice breaking with anguish, I can’t stand it any longer.
“Lana,” I say more firmly, grasping both her shoulders. “Wake up. It’s just a dream.”
Her eyes fly open, wild and unfocused. For a terrifying moment, she doesn’t recognize me—her hand shoots out, connecting with my jaw in a defensive strike that’s surprisingly strong.
“Whoa,” I catch her wrist gently. “It’s me. Caleb. You’re at Ella’s house. You’re safe.”
Recognition dawns slowly in her eyes, followed immediately by embarrassment. “Caleb?” Her voice is hoarse, trembling. “I—what are you doing here?”
“Scout was worried about you,” I explain, releasing her wrist. “He woke me up.”
She sits up, pushing sweat-dampened hair from her face. “I’m sorry. Did I—” She notices my jaw where her hand struck. “Oh god, did I hit you?”
“It’s nothing,” I assure her, though I can feel it starting to throb. “Good right hook, though.”
She doesn’t smile at the attempted joke, just draws her knees to her chest, wrapping her arms around them like a shield. Scout presses closer, and she buries her fingers in his fur.
“Do you want to talk about it?” I ask quietly. “The nightmare?”
She shakes her head, then pauses. “It’s just... old ghosts. Things I thought I’d buried.”
I nod, understanding all too well. “Those have a way of coming back when you least expect them.”
We sit in silence for a moment, the only sound her gradually steadying breath and Scout’s occasional sighs as she strokes his head.
“Can I get you anything?” I finally ask. “Water? Tea?”
She looks up at me, vulnerability naked in her eyes. “Would you—” She stops, shakes her head. “Never mind. It’s stupid.”
“What is it?”
