Page 68 of Monster in Disguise

Finally realizing that sleep is not forthcoming, I decide to go to the kitchen and make myself a chamomile tea. One glance at the clock and I see that it's past four A.M. I purse my lips, frustrated once again that I've not been able to get any sleep. Maybe a hot cup of tea will help me.

I leave my room and try to be as quiet as possible when I make my way down the stairs and into the kitchen. The house is so quiet, it's almost eerie. I rummage through the cupboards until I find some tea and I put a kettle on.

Waiting, I tap my foot and look around. The kitchen is modern and seeing all the appliances makes me think of baking duty. Maybe we could do that again and include Venezia too. I smile. That sure sounds good. It would be like a bonding exercise.

A clicking sound signals that the water is done, so I pour it in a cup. I'm about to take it with me back to my room when I hear an odd noise.

I frown.

It sounds like someone screaming in pain.

Leaving the cup behind, I go towards the direction of the noise. The closer I get, however, the more I realize that I'm heading towards Marcello's room. I take a few more steps and I stop. I hold my breath, trying to focus on the noise.

Maybe I misheard?

But then I hear it again, this time more intense. It's such an anguished sound, like someone being tortured.

In front of Marcello's door, I hesitate. The weight of my decision sits heavily on my chest, unsure if he would appreciate my intrusion.

The chorus of pained cries from inside only deepens my apprehension. My hands clench and unclench as I listen, but ultimately I know I have to check up on him. If he's fine, I'll apologize and leave. That seems like the best course of action.

Taking a deep breath, I reach for the doorknob and push the door open. The room is noticeably smaller than any others I've seen in this grand house. It's also quite bare, save for a lone table tucked away in the corner. But my attention is immediately drawn to Marcello.

He's caught in the grips of a nightmare.

His body thrashes about on the bed, tangled in sheets that cling to his sweating skin. Cries escape his lips as he struggles against whatever demons are plaguing his dreams. With each moan, he pulls at the blanket covering him until it falls down to reveal his naked form.

I quickly avert my eyes, heat rising in my cheeks. This was not what I expected to see when I entered his room. Guilt washes over me for invading his privacy, so I take a step back, ready to retreat.

But then another pained moan escapes his lips and I freeze. "Please no," he murmurs, curled up into a fetal position. My heart breaks for him, seeing him so vulnerable and tormented by whatever is haunting him in his sleep.

What could he be dreaming about?

My heart aches as I listen to Marcello's pained moans. I can't just leave him like this; I have to try and help him. With a deep breath, I gather my courage and enter the room, closing the door behind me. Keeping my distance, remembering his aversion to touch, I carefully sit on the edge of the bed.

"Marcello," I whisper, hoping to rouse him from his restless slumber. "Marcello, wake up."

He stirs slightly, but remains lost in his nightmares.

"Marcello?" I raise my voice, trying to reach him through his troubled dreams.

He trembles and whispers "no" with a pleading tone. My heart breaks at the sight of him; he looks so helpless and vulnerable. Acting on instinct, I gently place a hand on his shoulder and call out to him again.

"Marcello, please wake up." This time, I speak in a softer tone, hoping to soothe his tormented mind. "It's just a dream, please wake up."

I wait for a few seconds before attempting to wake him once more.

"Marcello," I begin, but before I can finish my sentence, his eyes snap open and lock onto mine. Relief washes over me as I see that he is finally awake. "Marcello? Thank God." I let out a sigh of relief and start to stand up.

But before I can move away from the bed, Marcello's hand shoots out and grabs onto my arm tightly.

"Marcello?" I ask tentatively as his skin makes contact with mine. Looking up at him, I see that he is still staring at me with an almost puzzled expression.

"I'm sorry for barging in like this," I quickly apologize, hoping he won't misinterpret my intentions. "You were having a nightmare and screaming; I couldn't just leave you like that. I'm sorry."

He tilts his head to the side and squints at me, his grip on my arm only tightening.

In this moment, he looks almost intimidating and scary.

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