Page 41 of Riot

No, no, no, no.

They aren’t here. I’m safe. They aren’t here. I’m safe.

I repeat it as I run through all the grounding techniques I know, but it doesn’t help. The darkness reaches for me, trying to swallow me whole, and something tells me if it gets me tonight, it will be the end.

Rolling from the couch, I crawl from the dark, empty room, searching for something, anything to cling to. I need something to anchor me in this world so I don’t fall into the darkness where my memories haunt me. My head lifts, and out of the window, I spy the lights on in Kage’s mansion.

Without conscious thought, I drag myself to my bare feet and stumble out of my front door, my entire focus on the lights. If I can get there, I’ll be safe. The darkness won’t reach me.

My silk nightdress whips around my bare legs as I clamber through the gap he created in the wall, thankful for it right now. Ignoring my stinging feet, I run and stumble to the front door. My heart pounds as fear nips at my heels.

I crash into the door with desperate, clumsy hands, struggling to grab the doorknob. It opens, and I fly inwards. It’s unlocked. I look around with panicked, unseeing eyes before scrambling for the stairs.

“Kage.” It’s a croak.

Was I screaming in my sleep?

Gripping the banister, I drag myself up the steps on shaky legs, crying the entire time. “Kage,” I call louder. “Kage!” It’s a sorrowful scream as I reach the top and collapse. “Kage, Kage, Kage, Kage.”

“Sweetheart?” There’s a bang, and then I’m lifted into solid, safe arms. “Fallon, look at me. What happened?” he asks, holding my head up. He runs his hands over me in panic. “Fallon.”

I focus on his eyes as the darkness ebbs away from his light. “Nightmares,” I rasp, knowing he won’t stop until he knows. “I need you.”

He blows out a breath, holding me closer. “I’m here.” He kisses my head, warming my skin with that one touch. “I’m here, sweetheart.” I close my eyes as he carries me deeper into the house, his arms my safety net. Suddenly, I’m lying on something soft, and I startle, reaching for him in my panic, but he slides in next to me, pulling me into his arms. “I’m here. I’m here. I’m not going anywhere. You’re safe. You’re safe.” He repeats it until I’m breathing again. “That’s it, sweetheart, breathe for me.” Something warm tucks around me. “You’re freezing.”

“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry,” I whisper. “I couldn’t see a way out, and then I saw your lights on and I just . . . I just thought if I could get here, I would be safe. I’m sorry.”

“Don’t you ever be sorry. I’m glad you came,” he replies, holding me tightly.

“It tried to get me.”

“What did, sweetheart?”

“The darkness,” I whisper.

“Shh, I won’t let the darkness get you,” he promises.

“It already did,” I admit. “It got me, Kage, and I’m so fucking lost.”

“I know, but I’m here now. You’re safe, and I won’t let you wander alone,” he promises. “Now just breathe for me and let the light soak back in.”

I don’t know how he knew I needed that, but I do, and I sink into his warmth. The light of the room burns against my eyelids, chasing away the last of the lingering memories and thoughts. I’m not a fool, I know what happened in my past will never go away, but I hoped one day it would get easier.

I was wrong. It only seems to get harder.

I have been told I need to deal with it, to find the trauma that stalks me and confront it, but I can’t. I couldn’t ever speak the truth to the array of doctors I saw. I just lied and lied and lied until it became second nature . . . until I even believed the lies.

I’m okay. I’m always okay.

I don’t know how long we lie here, him holding me, protecting me, until I force myself to sit up, ashamed and empty once more. I go to slide off the bed, but he captures my hand and sits me on the bottom.

“Let me look at your feet.” Before I can protest, he drops to his knees on the floor and lifts my feet, checking them with a sad smile. “Just some small cuts, nothing that can’t be fixed, sweetheart. Nothing I can’t fix if you let me,” he murmurs, and I know he means more than my wounds.

He can’t though. Can’t he see that? Nobody can.

I watch with sad eyes as he carefully lifts each foot and washes them before applying ointment and then wrapping them in big, warm socks that reach mid-calf.

“Your door was unlocked,” I murmur numbly. It’s always like this after one of my storms—numbness, nothing, until I don’t even feel connected to this world—but when he meets my eyes, electricity fires through me, making me feel again.

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