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He touched her foot.
She sprang up, breathing hard, and searched the dark room. When she made out his outline, she scrambled toward him and tossed her arms around his midsection, squeezing tight.
He squeezed back. “You said my name.”
As the days passed, he became more malleable, his brain like her personal piece of clay.
“Why did you say my name?”
She shrugged. “I don’t know.”
“Don’t lie to me.”
“It was just a bad dream, Siriano.”
“What about?”
She remained silent.
“What did you dream about?” he repeated with more urgency than harshness.
She dropped her voice. “Adrían. He found me. He tried to take me.”
“And what happened?”
“I…nothing.”
He grabbed her by the shoulders, peeled her off him, and positioned her where he could see her face in the dim light. “What happened? Why did you say my name?”
“I…I didn’t want him to take me.”
“So you said my name.”
“I, uh, called for you.” She tried to hug him again, and he didn’t stop her. “I know, I know. Why would I call for you, right? But it was just a dream. It means nothing.”
She released him and looked up to find him staring at her, his eyes wild and slightly unfocused. She caressed the side of his face, and his eyes closed.
Then he left.
For the next couple of weeks, he returned only long enough to bring her food. She nearly gave up and used the knife on herself, but not with this baby inside her. Not with her three favorite guys waiting for her.
So, she had another “dream.”
Again, she called out for Lavigne, and he came much quicker than before, which made her realize that when he left, he wasn’t leaving her alone. He only left the room. He stayed behind, waiting for something—maybe waiting for her to call for him again.
She wrapped her arms around him.
He peeled her off to remove the rope, and as he lightly fingered the markings on her neck, she returned to holding him.
“What did you dream about this time?” he asked.
She swallowed fake tears. “The same thing.”
“Gano?”
“Yes.”
“Are you afraid of him?”
