Page 13 of The Awakening

“She looked me dead in my eyes and told me she was going to kill someone, and that I was going to help her,” Arno speaks in barely a whisper, his shoulders curling in on themself as he speaks. “I have to admit, mate, I’m not sure she is ready to advance in her training after this one. Not until you two can bring her back from the fire she’s thrown herself in.”

“I fucking knew something like this would happen. We shouldn’t have agreed on this, Everett. We’re going to lose the girl we fell in love with,” Dean spits in an angry growl as he, too, starts pacing the room. Letting out a heavy sigh, I comb my hair back with my hands. The threat of a migraine begins to throb from the uncertainty of what to do next. Racking my brain, I’m at a complete loss as to how to help her. If she truly wants to be a Shadow, these are the steps she’ll need to take to succeed. However, Dean is right, I’m not willing to lose the girl we love so she can become something she’s not.

The click of the door has my attention snapping to Sloan as she enters the room looking freshly showered. Her hair is still damp, and she’s wearing her usual jeans and a gray long-sleeved shirt that hugs her petite frame. Her face is unreadable, but she doesn’t look distressed or pained as she makes her way over to the three of us.

“What’s next?” she says, as she stops beside me, looking at the three of us one by one. I’m shocked and unsure of what to say. The room is quiet as we all share a glance before landing back on Sloan. Dean places himself in front of her, placing his hands on her shoulders while peering down at her. She stays still, only lifting her neck to return Dean’s stare. It’s almost as if this isn’t Sloan at all. She moves on autopilot with no emotions playing across her beautiful face, making it damn hard to determine where her head is at.

“That’s it for today. No more simulations.” Dean’s tone is harsh as he lifts his eyes to me, almost as if to say that’s final. Looking down at Sloan’s face, I can see her eyebrows pinch together at Dean’s dictation. She looks almost mad, an expression I was not expecting.

“Wait, why? This is what I need to do to move forward with training. I can do this, I’m fine. Put me back in, let me get this over with sooner rather than later,” she barks as she backs away from Dean’s hold. She frantically looks up to me and then to Arno, who is standing slightly perpendicular to Dean. “Tell them Arno, I’m fine. I realized I was in a dream and controlled my emotions. Even you said how impressed you were, tell them.” Her eyes are hard on Arno waiting for his response, but all he does is give her a sympathetic smile.

“There’s a difference between controlling your emotions and eliminating them entirely.” My voice is soft but stern as I peer down at her crystal-blue eyes. I still can’t read her; her face is blank as she comprehends what I’m saying. I’m about to say something else, but Sloan speaks first.

“Okay, then tomorrow.” With that, she turns and makes her way to the door.

“Where are you going?” I call out, causing her to halt before she reaches for the handle.

She doesn’t turn to face me, she says over her shoulder, “To the gym. I need to hit the bag, or run, or something.” She fumbles over her words, not really sure what she needs to do at this point. As she leaves the three of us in the viewing room, I’m speechless for the first time in my life and unsure how to fix the problem we undoubtedly created.

October 10, 2021

I’m falling for this girl, and not just me, Dean and Everett are too. She’s an enigma. Not how I would imagine a girl who’s been tortured her whole life to be. She’s witty and fun, she doesn’t let her past define her, she just lives for the moment. She’s incredibly strong and resilient. She’s conquered more in her short life than most women would in a lifetime. As much as the three of us are falling for her, I think she may be falling for us as well. There is something off about this whole situation of us kidnapping her and bringing her to Stone Fortress, and it’s making me distrust anyone within the organization right now. I’ve brought this journal home with me, which is a huge violation, but something inside me feels uneasy about leaving this at headquarters where essentially anyone can read it. No, I’ve brought it home, and this is where it will stay. At first, I hated this journal and writing my thoughts down in a stupid book. Now I find it helpful, like a brain dump onto paper, allowing me to clear my mind.

I’m scared. Or rather, I think I’m scared. I know I should be scared. I did everything Dean made me promise I wouldn’t do. Something happened to me in that last simulation. I felt it and can still feel it now as I run on the treadmill. I feel nothing—totally numb and indifferent to anything that has ever happened to me. At first, I welcomed the feeling of not feeling anything at all, but now I feel stuck. I think about my parents and everything they put me through, and I should feel angry, but I don’t. I think about Colson and never being able to step into his embrace again, and I should be heartbroken, but I’m not.

My heart and chest feel like the dentist coated my whole insides with their numbing agent. I can’t break through the paralyzing feeling that’s latched onto my muscles to allow any emotion to come in. My brain wants to feel, it wants to express how these situations have molded me into the person I am today, but the signals are not being interpreted properly within my nervous system. My brain is telling me I’m scared, but I can’t feel the pang of anxiety that a racing heart would create when one is scared. I know what emotions I want to feel, I’m just stuck. I’m stuck in this perpetual state of nothingness, and I fear I won’t be able to escape from it.

Glancing down at the treadmill, I see I’ve run four-and-a-half miles and I’m barely even breathing hard. I slow my pace to a walk, trying to slow down the chaos within and trying to focus on my brain to heart communication. Something I’ve never done before—and yes—it is as hard as it sounds.

After walking for another five minutes, I hit stop on the treadmill. Once the track stops moving, I sit on the edge of the machine. Resting my elbows on my knees, I let my head fall towards the floor. What happened to me in that simulation? It was just like Dean said—a switch inside me flipped, and now I’m stuck and can’t turn it back on. Just another thing my father and his lowlife piece of shit friends took from me. I want to feel mad. I want to feel rage consume me as I direct that feeling towards my father. But I feel nothing.

The gym door opens, and I look up to see Dean. His face is hard and set on me as he makes his way towards me. Sitting directly in front of me on the opposite treadmill, he leans his arms atop his knees, making it so our faces are inches apart. I look away from him, not wanting to meet his eyes.

“Look at me, Sloan.” Dean’s tone is low and deep, giving me chills as his words fill the gym. I don’t obey his command. I continue to look towards the floor; his intense stare is too much for me right now.

“Look at me.” His volume rises just slightly, but still, I don’t listen. I hear him sigh a deep breath right before his fingers take hold of my chin and force my face to his. I’m not scared of him; I don’t want to discuss what is happening to me.

“You lied to me, baby girl.” I freeze at this comment. As if I could have controlled the outcomes of that simulation any more than I already had. How dare he accuse me of lying?

“Oh, yeah? How did I do that?” My tone is even, almost sounding bored with this conversation already. Dean’s eyebrows pinch together, my comment causing his face to darken in that familiar anger that sweeps over him in the blink of an eye, as he releases my chin.

“As if you don’t remember. You promised you wouldn’t lose yourself in this training. You promised you wouldn’t lose the real Sloan to the chaos of your past.” I listen to his words, letting them fill me up as I try to feel guilt, sadness, rage, anything. But nothing fills me up. I sit up straighter, not really sure what to say, or how to explain any of this to him. I take a few deep breaths, closing my eyes as I do, and try to muster up the logical explanation for what is happening inside me.

“I have no idea what to say, Dean. I’m just as confused as you. One minute I feel everything. My father’s cigar burning into my skin, his fist cracking against my jaw, the hands of his friends restraining me so tightly I can feel the bruises forming beneath my skin. Then, just like that, it was all gone. Everything went blank, my insides were swept clean of any and all nerve endings. I lost it all. I felt no pain. It was nice,” I whisper that last bit. I truly liked the feeling of not feeling anything in that moment, but when the simulation was over, that numbness stayed with me.

Dean’s stare is hot on my skin as I fiddle with my fingers, not knowing what to say next or what to do. His warm hands slip through my fingers, breaking my nervous fidgeting and hold my fingers in his hands. His touch is hard as he squeezes my hands a little too hard. I stare at our connection, wanting to feel the electricity of his touch, but it never comes. It’s at this moment I realize the extent of switching off your emotions. I snap my eyes to his, wondering if I lost the connection between us.

I know I love him, and I love Everett. There’s no questioning that, but have I lost the chemistry that’s formed between us whenever they touch me? Have I lost the feeling of being full, of being loved, of being wanted? Without thinking any further, I grab Dean’s face in my hands and kiss him with so much force our teeth click together as I desperately try to ignite the fire I fear is now being smothered.

Dean snakes his hands around my back and hoists me into his lap. Straddling his waist, I continue to kiss him, our lips moving in sync with each other as I devour him. Grinding my hips against his rapidly swelling cock, I continue moving my hips as the ache between my legs demands more friction. If I can feel the pleasure building deep in my core, that has to be a good sign that I’m not completely lost, right?

Slipping my hands up his shirt, I scratch my fingers down his defined chest and over every crease of his abdomen until I reach the hem of his pants. A deep groan escapes his mouth, his whole body tightening to my touch.

“Fuck, baby girl, keep going,” he says into my mouth as I grab the hem of his shirt and rip it over his head. He raises his arms up to help free himself of his shirt before he threads his fingers through my hair, gripping tight as he brings my face back to his. My scalp is screaming at the hold he has on me, but I welcome the sting. I need to feel something, even if that is pain.

“Harder,” I whisper. He obliges and pulls my hair, tilting my head back as he starts licking along my neck, stopping to kiss the sensitive spot right below my ear. He nips my earlobe gently, but I need more.

“Harder.” This time I say it a little louder, making sure he knows how much I want his dominance right now. Suddenly, a sharp pain shoots down my shoulder and to my fingers as Dean sinks his teeth into the top of my shoulder, causing me to scream out.

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