Page 57 of Forbidden Hearts

He releases me from his grip and steps aside.

Every step I take toward the door is heavier than the last. I wonder how I’m able to move at all.

I reach for the doorknob and pry the door open.

Esmeralda lies on a bed. Her eyes are closed. For a brief moment, I think she will open them and tell me this is all a sick prank that my brothers cooked up.

But she doesn’t open her eyes. Not then, not days later during her wake, when her mother and siblings are wailing by her open coffin. We managed to cover up her bruises with makeup. To her family, she had died peacefully in her sleep from a brain aneurysm. But under her skin, the broken bones and internal injuries told a different story. One that would crush her family if they knew the truth.

“I’m sorry I wasn’t there to protect you,” I say, looking down at her coffin. The room is empty, and I’m the only one left.

My words are muffled, so I push them out with greater force.

“I’m sorry I wasn’t there to protect you!”

My mouth opens, and so do my eyes. The coffin is gone. Instead, I’m lying in a dark room with sweat pooled under my body.

I’m in bed.

Turning to my side, I see the bedsheets next to me are disturbed. They vaguely mold in the shape of a person’s body.

Esmeralda?

I lean to the disturbed side and place my hand over it. It’s warm. I lean in closer and take in the smell.Alex.

My heart races in my chest. Alex is here. I know where I am now. I’m home, in my cabin.

With a heavy sigh, I collapse back on my pillow and wait for Alex to return. I can’t wait to hug her and breathe her in. She has become my constant, an anchor that keeps me in the here and now, where I can manage to live with my failures without tormenting myself.

After a few minutes, I begin to worry that Alex hasn’t returned to bed. My cabin is a safe place. It’s untouchable. Butthe dream left a lingering feeling of uneasiness and dread. I can’t let anything happen to Alex.

I get up and search for her.

The cabin is dark and quiet. I check the restroom first, but the lights are off. I leave my room and walk to the kitchen. Maybe she needed a glass of water.

Nothing. The kitchen is empty.

Where is she?

My heart starts up in my chest, and sweat pools on my forehead. I run until I see the light on in one of the guest rooms. I run in and call out her name.

“Alex!”

She’s sitting on the floor beside the bed, next to a stack of Esmeralda’s paintings propped against the wall. She startles and rises to her feet when she hears me. Her face is as terrified as I feel.

“What are you doing here?” I ask her. “Why did you leave the room?”

“I—” she starts, looking back at the paintings on the floor and then at me. “I didn’t mean to snoop. I’m sorry, I just couldn’t sleep.”

“You can explore the cabin all you want,” I say. “I was just worried. I woke up and didn’t see you in bed. I thought maybe something had happened.”

“Like what?” she asks. She’s still a little pale.

“Nothing,” I say. I reach for her hand and pull her close until her face is just under mine. “I’ll never let anything bad happen to you.”

“Why would anything bad happen to me?” Alex asks.

I look over her shoulder at the paintings of Esmeralda. I painted them in the months before her death, and I kept them as a reminder of what could happen if I didn’t look after the ones I cared about.

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