Page 8 of Fate Awakened

The command takes hold, and I can’t move my arm or stop myself from pressing the trigger—the urge to kill overwhelming all of my other senses.

“NO, STOP!” I shout, but no words leave my mouth. This feels too real, and I can’t quite wrap my head around what I see. Why am I hurting this man?

Hands grip my arm, pulling quickly, and the taser launches into the air, causing me to spin and locate the new threat.

“Cain. What the fuck? He’s worth nothing if his heart stops.” The man who disarmed me shouts.

Cain?

Oh my God.

“CAIN!” I scream, attempting to get him to listen to me. I don’t know how this is happening or if it’s even real, but maybe if I can hear him, he can hear me.

CAIN!!!!

I wake up fighting. Firm hands grip my arms as I scream his name, my voice raw from overuse. My cheeks are wet with tears as I claw at the person holding me. My eyes finally focus as his voice breaks through my yelling.

“It’s ok; it’s ok. It’s just a bad dream. You’re ok.” Hudson's eyes meet mine, concern evident, and he appears to be evaluating how far gone I am.

I freeze, falling still and stopping my fight. I close my eyes, attempting to center myself and calm my beating heart and ragged breath.

What the fuck was that?

Never have I had a nightmare feel more realistic, well, except the ones that were real. Those replayed on a loop in my psyche consistently over the last decade. This one was new. It wasn’t a memory I was reliving. This had to be my imagination.

But it felt like I was there. Like it was my hand breaking the fingers. My finger on the trigger of the taser as the electricity vibrated through my palm. My overwhelming urge to kill a man I didn’t even know.

Breathe Bri. Count backward from ten. Focus on something you know is real.

I focus on breathing, going through the steps I learned from years in therapy, and slowly bringing my heart rate back to a regular rhythm.

Inhale.

Exhale.

Opening my eyes, I bring the world back into focus. I’m still sitting in the back of the SUV. The sun peaking over the mountains tells me it’s still early morning. Hudson stands in the open rear passenger door looking at me as if I’m a bomb about to go off at a moment’s notice.

Well, at least we’re all enjoying ourselves.

“Where are we?” I ask, straining my voice as I try to clear my dried-out throat.

“Gas station. Thought you might want breakfast,” he responds, handing me a package of mini donuts and apple juice. “They didn’t have much, but beggars can’t be choosers.” He slams the door and moves back to the driver’s seat.

“I need to use the restroom,” I state, trying to think on my feet. If we’re around people, I can maybe find someone with a phone and call for help.

“Not sure that’s gonna happen. I see the wheels turning in your head, and I’m not about to chase you down when you try to run.” He starts the car without a backward glance.

“I guess I can just pee in the car, not my mess to clean up after all,” I say with an air of defiance, causing Hudson to slam his hands on the wheel. Frustration evident. I give him a sweet smile and lift my wrists in the air.

“Fine!” he almost growls out through gritted teeth and a clenched jaw.

“You might want to untie me, too. It would look pretty bad if someone saw me.”

I can see him wrestling with the decision of whether it's worth it to let me out or not before he swings his door back open with a sigh and returns to the back seat. He pulls a knife from his pocket, flipping it open before locking eyes with me. His face holds no humor as he issues his warning.

“If you want any chance of making it out of this alive, you’ll use the restroom without incident. Right now, it is in my best interest to keep you breathing, but I won’t hesitate to reconsider should the situation arise.” He finishes the statement bringing the knife to my ropes, cutting each with a single swipe while never moving his eyes from mine.

Shit.

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