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And there's nothing for poor Michael, who deserves a better life than this. We all do.
So I smile and talk a little about the cloak I'm patching together with scraps. I talk about the weather and how it's finally getting cooler. We talk about fort gossip for maybe five minutes before Bethany gives another pointed look at the cooking pot and I say my goodbyes so I don't have to see them eat the things that haunt my nightmares. I murmur goodbyes and promise to return as often as I can, but that I don't know when it'll be.
For once, the pinched look isn't on Bethany's face when I say that. She's not worried about her next meal, because she's got one cooking. I feel like an asshole for discouraging her to eat, when I always have regular meals incoming.
My stomach growls, reminding me that those regular meals have been put aside for her lately. That I've had one meal in the last two days and I need to take care of myself, too.
Tomorrow, I'll eat.
I feel the cloying sensation of sickness and disease before the first bug shows up in my dreams. It's the same dreams I always have. I'm sitting on my bed in my room, sewing. The overwhelming feeling of wrongness and filth crawls over my skin, and everything prickles.
When I look up, my bed is surrounded by bugs. Big, snake-sized worms. Centipedes with thousands of legs. Bugs the size of cats, with pinching claws and spiny legs and shiny, unnatural carapaces. They make creepy, chittering noises as they flood over the bed, a waterfall of disgusting legs and cockroaches.
I scream, but it's not loud enough. No one wakes up. It's like I'm shouting into the void—Manda can't hear me, and the other women keep on sleeping even as the monster bugs pour into the room and crawl over everything. "Please," I cry out. "Help me!"
I am here.
The voice is pure. Loud. Like a bell ringing in my ears. Everything goes silent, and the bugs fade away. I'm alone in my bed but…not alone.
There's a warm presence nearby, its mind touching mine.
"Hello?" I breathe, rubbing my skin as if I can still feel the cockroaches crawling over me. I get to my feet and take a few steps into the darkness. "Who's there?"
There are no more bugs. They're gone. So is my room—I'm standing alone in the shadows, but I'm not afraid.
From behind, warm arms surround me, holding me against a larger body that scorches with heat. Hands roam over me, tugging at the thin fabric of my sleep shirt. I am here, the voice says again. I am here with you.
"Who are you?" I ask, but it doesn't matter. I lean back against that warm, impossibly perfect body and feel safe. Protected. For the first time since my father died, I don't feel alone and afraid.
I do not know. Who are you?
"I'm Jenny."
Jenny. The voice in my ear is like a sigh. I like that. I like you. You are not afraid anymore, are you? I will stay with you so the dreams go away.
"Thank you." I turn, trying to look at the face of my rescuer, but I can't see it. It's hidden in shadow. I reach up and touch him, wanting to run my fingers over his face. When I try, though, he fades away.
I cannot stay like this for long. It costs me much.
"Like what? Stay like what? In my dreams?"
Stay as myself. It fights me. He fights me.
"Who?" I shiver as a thought occurs to me. "Whoever is sending the bugs?"
No. Warm fingers caress my throat, and there's the barest hint of claws. I'm not scared of those claws, though, even when they nick my skin. They belong to my friend. My protector. I don't care if he has claws…not when he's keeping me safe from the evil that surrounds me. That awful, skin-crawling sensation is gone while he's here and I'm left with peace.
Quiet.
Joy.
I have touched your dreams a few times in the past, my friend admits. Just to say hello. I know I should not intrude, but…touching your mind helps me stay in my own.
His words mean nothing to me, but that's just how dreams are—confusing. "You can hang out in my mind any time you want," I tell him, rubbing up against his warmth. "As long as you keep the bugs away."
No evil will touch you as long as I am here. I make you that promise. Those scorching claws trace over my throat again. They cannot have you because you are mine.
"Yours. I like that." I close my eyes, sliding back out of his arms and into my bed, and this time, there are no bugs. This time, I'm able to sleep.
4
JENNY
When I wake up, I feel more refreshed than I have in weeks.
