Page 101 of Catching My Dreams

She put the lid on her ice cream with a sigh. Her safety blanket would need to go back into the freezer until later. Before she made her way to the kitchen, she gave Archie, who was lying at the foot of the couch, a pat.

“Make sure you wash your hair,” Riley called out after her. “Greasy isn’t a good look on you.”

Ella scowled over her shoulder. “Thanks.”

Riley grinned at her. “Just keeping it real.”

And despite the brutal nature of her honesty, Ella appreciated her for it.

Riley wasn’t treating her like she would break if she said the wrong thing. She might have empathized with her, but she wasn’t looking at her in the way Jasmine and Becca had when Ella had broken the news to them.

She wasn’t looking at Ella like she was something to be pitied—like she was some sad, unwanted mess Noah had kicked to the curb.

And when Ella came back downstairs, smelling like soap and the perfume she bought for herself every year around Christmas, Riley had a World War II movie ready on the TV. It was perfect. Well, Ella still cried during the movie, but she could pretend it was because one of the main characters died. Not because she was thinking that it should have been Noah sitting next to her.

Riley stayed until they were both fighting to keep their eyes open despite the action occurring on the screen during their fourth movie.

Though Ella was grateful she could perform her nightly ritual of crying in the shower without worrying about being overheard, she regretted not asking Riley to stay when the lights were all out and it was just her and Archie.

She struggled to fall asleep, and before she eventually succumbed to her exhaustion, she debated calling Asher like she’d used to. Her tiredness made the decision for her, pulling her under before she could reach for her phone.

???

Brett’s face hovered over her own, his breath crawling over her nose and lips. Ella couldn’t move. Fear gripped her, keeping her from so much as twitching. People mostly spoke about fight or flight, but the freeze response was the one that Ella had become more prone to since the basement. It was also the most dangerous.

She couldn’t lift her arm to hit him. She couldn’t shove him away and make a run for it. She could only lie there, eyes stinging from not blinking for so long and muscles aching from the tension coiled within them.

“I’m so sorry, Ella. He’s an idiot.” Brett stroked a finger over her cheek, his eyes following the path he traced on her skin. “If he thinks you’re selfish, he can’t possibly know you at all.”

His gaze lifted, and Ella stared numbly through his eyes, unable to fight him and refusing to engage.

“I know you, though,” he continued, his lower body pinning her legs and his torso crushing the air from her lungs. “And I know you deserve better than him.”

His words were kind, and his voice gentle, but she didn’t let that fool her. Brett was a monster.

“He’s never treated you well, Ella. He’s always been good at hurting you, and he’s shown that will never change.”

Ella just wanted to leave, to escape. She closed her eyes, and that was when she felt the tug inside herself. The uncomfortable stretching that signaled she was leaving her physical body behind. She gave into that feeling, letting it pull her from what she was realizing was another dream.

“Ella? What are you doing?” Brett demanded to know, but it was too late.

Somehow, her spirit was no longer anchored to her body. Ella had never left her physical body during a dream; she hadn’t known it was even possible. She was tugged from her dream with a suddenness that had her gasping, and then she was being pulled at again.

The feeling only lasted for a second or two, and then it was replaced by something far worse.

Ella collided with a solid wall, her spiritual form crashing against it with enough impact to make her cry out in pain. She looked around for an escape, but all she could see around her was a sea of endless gray. She was trapped, caught between her dream and the spirit plane.

She’d run into a barrier like this before, both when she was dreamwalking and when she’d spiritwalked to find Asher. In her dreams, she’d always been stopped before she could reach wherever her body wanted to take her, and she’d been stuck in a kind of limbo until she woke up, unable to pass through the wall, and her subconscious not allowing her to be drawn anywhere else.

Those dreams had been so much worse than any nightmare in some ways. She’d felt lost and hopeless, and that feeling of despair and dread returned now.

She just wanted out, and Ella screamed as her fists slammed against the wall that was keeping her from fleeing. She yelled curses and screamed mindlessly. Pain exploded in her head, stars bursting in front of her eyes, but she didn’t falter or pause.

She threw herself against the barrier, clawing and punching at the solid surface until it gave way with a crack that echoed in her ears as loudly as a gunshot.

She was pulled through the gap she’d made, but instead of appearing in her bedroom or back in her body, she found herself in a room she didn’t recognize. It looked like a seedy motel room with its ugly floral bedspread and matching curtains.

Ella groaned, clutching her aching head. She tasted copper, the metallic tang of blood making her stomach churn. She’d felt similarly when she’d broken through the barrier Brett had built to keep her from finding Asher in her dreams. Which could only mean one thing, she realized.

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