Page 53 of A Silence So Divine

It feels as though my brain has been sucked into a vacuum. I can hardly think. However, Creed has already made it to her bedside. His hands hover above her, unsure.

“Wake her,”I sign, forcing my fingers to obey my mind.“Carefully.”

Placing his hands on her shoulders, he begins to shake. Whatever nightmare has its claws in her, it’s not relenting without a fight. The noise has turned to ringing in my ears, buzzing throughout my skull. With a stumble, my back hits the wall and I sag against it. Through it all, I keep my eyes on the two of them.

Suddenly, Creed rushes into the bathroom and appears seconds later with something held in his hand. He approaches the bed and thrusts his arm forward.

The house is silent once more. Like it never happened at all.

Body bowing on a heaving breath, Eden falls back onto the mattress. Without the intrusion of her shrieks, everything comes back into clarity. Clutched in Creed’s grasp is a small glass cup.

Rising to my feet, I hold the door jamb for support. Water coats Eden’s pillow and face, washing away the streaks of blood. Her expression is one of bewilderment, eyes wide and trained on my brother.

A sob breaks the silence.

I take a step forward, but Creed is already lowering himself to the mattress. Grabbing her wrists, he tugs her to his chest and guides her arms around his neck. It takes but a moment for the girl to relent; she climbs into his lap, staining his t-shirt with her tears.

I wonder if this is how she and I appeared in the truck earlier today, clinging to one another.

Then I wonder why I care.

Creed stands and breaks my ruminating. Hoisting her into his arms like a child, he heads for the door.

I don’t attempt to stop him, or ask where he’s going, and he doesn’t look back at me.

I’m left alone in the dark, replaying the scene in my head.

The poor girl is absolutely fucked from all she’s been through—of course she’s having night terrors. With any luck, they won’t last, otherwise we’ll be suffering from some serious headaches.

Well, I will, anyway.

My eyes widen, realization dawning. Creed was completely unaffected by Eden. Because he can’thearEden.

Finally, some good fucking news.

Twenty Three

Eden

The pastel yellow of morning eventually wakes me. Disoriented, my mind and body are weak with exhaustion. Fighting off memories of the day before, I nuzzle deeper into the blankets and focus on the present. Silky cotton sheets brush along my ankles, a velvet comforter tucked beneath my cheek. The room is warm, smelling of baked goods and pine.

A faint breeze tousles the hair of my forehead. One of my eyes pop open, and I inch back to see what I’m pressed against. The first thing I recognize is a smattering of freckles with auburn eyelashes intermingled.

Creed is asleep on his back, face turned toward mine. His lips form a small ‘o’, each exhale releasing a puff of air. I’m not in my own bed, but his. He had carried me in here after I woke from… whatever that was.

It wasn’t a dream. It was death. Over and over and over, without an end or beginning.

We didn’t talk about it—we didn’t say anything at all. He sat me on the bed, crawled in next to me, and pulled the blanketsover us. Eventually the crying ebbed, and I fell into a mercifully dreamless sleep.

Beneath the covers, I reach for Creed’s hand. Without waking, he laces his fingers with mine. I don’t want to be sad, or afraid, or anything at all. I want to lie here with my friend, and let the peace of nothingness wash over me.

A green eye cracks open, squinting against the harsh light of day. The curtains are cracked, a beam slicing the room in half. Its blade falls between our faces.

Creed’s lips curl into a sleepy smile. All I manage is a twitch of my cheek, but I don’t burst into tears, so that’s something. Leaning forward, he presses his lips to my forehead. I relish the affection though I know I’m undeserving.

Too soon, he rises from the bed. Stretching his arms above his head, he releases a loud yawn. I watch on, too afraid to leave the room. Once the day begins, I will have to face the harsh realities and the sorrow that coincides.

“Come on,”Creed insists, swinging open the door.