Page 3 of Breeding Justice

"I can't..." I managed to choke out, hastily pulling on my boots. The cool air in the room felt sharp against my sweat-slicked skin, and a shuddering breath left me as I stood. I was still reeling from the dream, from the intensity of it all - Bash's hands on me, Jez's laughter...I shook my head violently as if to physically shake off the remnants of the nightmare.

"I'm so high, I'm probably not even going to remember. Get it out. You might feel better."

I looked at his pale skin, at the way his eyes were only half-open.

"I can't," I whispered again, the words a desperate plea more than anything. He didn't understand. He couldn't possibly understand the weight of the memory that clung to me, suffocating me with its presence.

"Try," he urged, his voice soft and comforting as he sat up in bed, propped against his pillows.

I ran a hand through my disheveled hair and sighed, part of me wanting to give in to his calming presence. But the other part - the part that still clung to the echoes of my dream - pushed back. My gaze flickered from him to the window, the darkness outside seeming less threatening than my own thoughts.

"You can't keep doing this to yourself," he said. He pushed himself up and swung his legs off the side of the bed. Despite his injuries, he moved with a grace that I found mesmerizing.

"Where are you going?" I asked as he stood, wincing slightly from the pain.

"To get you some water," he said simply. "You're shaking like a leaf."

I watched him go, my body still trembling from the nightmare. He was back again soon, two glasses of ice cold water in his hand.

"You know," he said, sitting down next to me. "Nightmares are a totally normal part of the recovery process."

I glared at him. "So you knew it was about Jez?"

He took a sip of his water. "Jez or his dad, yeah," he replied. "I mean, we've all done some fucked up shit, seen some fucked up shit. It all pales in comparison."

"I don't want your psychoanalysis," I snapped, regretting the words as soon as they left my mouth. Zane frowned, looking hurt. A wave of guilt washed over me.

"Sorry," I mumbled. "I didn't mean..."

"No," he interrupted, putting his glass down on the floor and turning to face me. "It's okay."

"You're literally a doctor. You know more about this than I ever will," I replied. "I'm just...look, the therapy is helping, right? It is. Abby is great. But then Bash is in danger and suddenly I'm not just dreaming about Jez but Bash is taking his place..."

"His place like," Zane seemed to consider his words carefully, then shrugged. "Like raping you? Sorry, I'm trying hard here, I'm just so high."

I took a deep breath and nodded. It was painful to admit, even more so with the bluntness of Zane's words, but it was a necessary evil. An evil I had to confront.

"Yeah," I responded quietly, staring at my trembling hands. "Something like that."

He didn't say anything for a moment, letting the words hang heavily in the cold air between us.

"You can't blame yourself," he eventually said, his voice soft. "You can't control your dreams and you certainly can't control what that bastard did to you."

"I know," I replied, taking another shaky breath. "But knowing it logically doesn't stop the dreams...or the guilt. When Bash takes his place, it always feels so...good. And then it feels wrong, right? I don't know why. It just does. I mean, we killed Jez."

"I killed Jez," Zane said. "And I would do it again in a heartbeat."

I looked at him, waiting for him to say anything else.

But he didn't. Silence stretched on like a void trying to swallow us whole. His gaze was steely, almost chilling. It wasn’t the high talking, it was raw conviction.

“Why did you do it?” My voice came out as a whisper, barely a scratch in the silence. I never asked Zane directly before. Not about killing Jez.

He tilted his head slightly, as if considering his response. "Because he was a threat, to you and to everyone else around him." His voice was calm, measured. "And because he deserved it."

I swallowed. "Does this mean I'm like...into Bash?" I asked. "It always feels like these dreams are walking a thin line between nightmare and sex dream and I can't figure them out."

"I think that's something you can explore with Abby when you go to therapy next, but here's a little bit of info for free," hesaid. "Just because something felt physically good doesn't mean that you liked it. It makes sense that your mind would try to fill the space in with someone you feel safe with, even if you aren't actually attracted to him. Do you understand?"

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