Page 46 of Top Shelf

They are all here.

Not hurting me…saving me?

No. That can’t be right.

It was supposed to end in pain. Italwaysends in pain.

Confusion ripples through the dream like a crack in glass.

This isn’t how it goes.

Why isn’t it going how it’s supposed to go? Where’s the fear? The panic? Where’s the voice telling me to shut up? To hold still?

All I feel now is the thud of footsteps. The comfort of a hoodie tucked around me. I’m safe.

I’m safe?

No. That’s wrong. That’s not what happened.

It can’t be.

It—

It can’t be?—

I wake up gasping.

My heart jackhammers in my chest, loud and erratic. My throat burns as if I’ve been screaming. My hands are clenched into fists, nails digging into my palms. There’s a ringing in my ears, and my whole body is trembling. The sheets are twisted around my legs, sweat cooling on the back of my neck.

The room is too dark. Shadows move like ghosts across the wall, closing in. My breath comes short and shallow, the taste of panic thick on my tongue.

For a second, I don’t know where I am. I don’t know what year it is.

Then my eyes adjust, and my ceiling comes into view.

“Valehurst.”

It’s not an immense comfort, but it is something.

Although I still feel like I’m unraveling.

My hands continue to tremble as I sit up and drag the sheets off my legs. I press the heels of my palms into my eyes and suck in a breath, but it doesn’t go deep enough. My lungs won’t expand.

The dream was the same…and yet it wasn’t.

It started like always, but it didn’t end like it should have.

The fear is still there. The weight. The smell of alcohol. The helplessness.

But over it…under it…threading through it like gold through stone…

Isthem.

Ronan. Silas. Lucian.

One’s voice. One’s eyes. One’s warmth.

You should ask yourself if what you think happened that night…is the whole truth.