Page 36 of The Nightmare's Kiss

He slowly opens his eyes and smiles down at me. Even with his sharp teeth, it somehow comes off soft. “I am glad to have met you, Samara Vance,” he says.

“Me too.” I drape a leg over him and cuddle closer against his warmth. “At least we have this. They can never really separate us when we have our dreams.”

Somnus hesitates, and I almost think he’s going to say something. But then he leans down and kisses me, and as we fall back on the bed, I soon forget the moment.

21

Chapter Twenty-One

The next week passes sluggishly. During the day, I feel like a zombie, shuffling around the house and barely aware of what I’m doing. I probably wouldn’t even remember to eat, if not for my concerned parents’ reminders. They insist on eating dinner together every night, even though I’m terrible company as I sit and mope and push food around my plate. I know they’re doing their best to help—comforting me about the loss of my job, gently urging me to leave the house, never asking questions I’m not ready to answer—but nothing breaks through my depressed haze.

Nights are my only escape. I spend all of my waking hours looking forward to the moment I get to crawl into bed and fall asleep. At first, I tuck in early, even before my parents do, but all that gets me is hours of tossing and turning and struggling to quiet my mind enough to actually drift off. After a few days of that torture, I turn to other means. First I rummage through my parents’ cabinet for Nyquil, but that renders my dreams murky and strange, not as clear andrealas they usually are with Somnus. I think of going to the doctor and begging for a prescription sleep aid, but I worry that would have much of the same effect. So I settle for ordering some melatonin and start running every evening at sundown. I push myself to the point of exhaustion, so that by the time my head hits the pillow there is nothing my aching body can dootherthan sleep.

I am dimly aware that I am on the path to destroying myself. This is no way to live. But dreams are the only thing in my life that make me happy right now. My dreams, and the Nightmare waiting for me in them.

It is bittersweet, to be cut off from Somnus in real life but always find him waiting after I close my eyes. I do my best to enjoy this time together because it is all we have. Sometimes our nights are wild and indulgent, leaving me rumpled and breathless and pleasantly sore when I awake. Other times we just lie together, his huge body curled around mine, his claws stroking my hair and his low rumble of a voice in my ear.

As time goes on, I let myself start to believe that this is enough for me. Even if I am cut off from the Facility, so long as Somnus is there when I fall into bed at night, maybe I will be okay. Bit by bit, that thought helps me drag myself from the dark pit of my depression. I start searching for jobs online, thinking about my future again, considering moving back to the city. I’m surprisingly sad when I think of leaving Ash Valley now. Not just because of the Nightmare, but also due to the new friends I found in Ezra and Belle, and the peaceful nostalgia of Cup o’ Happy, and dinners with my parents. Once, I was so eager to leave, but I feel as though coming back here with fresh eyes made me realize how much I truly loved it.

I always vowed that I wouldn’t settle down here, wouldn’t end up sucked into the “black hole” of the town like so many others. Now I’m starting to realize maybe that’s because people don’t realize how good they had it here until they leave…but oh well. I try to convince myself that this will be a good thing for me. A fresh start, away from the open wound that the Facility has become, and all of the secrets I am probably better off not knowing.

And no matter where I go, I will have Somnus. I will always carry a piece of home with me, wherever I go. I will always have my dreams with him.

Or so I think. Until one day, I reach for him and my hand goes through his arm.

I blink. Reach again. This time I manage to grip him, but he still feels less substantial, his form colder, less firm. I look up to meet his eyes. His expression is troubled…and not surprised. Once I look closer, I see that he is changing, too. His form has grown hazy around the edges, his features less distinct than usual. It’s the same with the recreation of my room, the whole dream. Everything feels dimmer, further from reality. As though it is a normal dream, rather than the special dream space we usually enjoy together.

My heart sinks. “What’s happening?” I ask. “Are you okay?”

He sighs and pulls me closer. I nestle into his lap and try to reassure myself that he is still here. “I am all right,” he says, stroking my hair. But even his fingers running through my waves feels different, like a rustle of a breeze, rather than solid fingers. I shut my eyes tightly, trying to focus on the sensation as if that will anchor him here. “It is…our bond. It is fading.”

My eyes snap open. “What?” I ask.

“I require a physical closeness to make my way into someone’s dreams,” he explains. “When I was able to see you every day, even for a few hours, it was more than enough. An easy thing to follow you into your dreams. But now…it is getting harder to find you. Harder to maintain this space for us.”

No.Dr. Wright did mention something about that once, but I let it slip my mind. Maybe I was eager to forget. I stare up at Somnus, tears welling in my eyes. It feels so unfair. Even after everything that’s happened, I thought at least we could have these moments together. But Director Ramsey has stolen even my dreams from me. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

Guilt is etched on his shadowed features. “I was not sure how. I thought we would have more time. But I am also…in a weakened state.”

“Weakened how?” I pull back and look at him more sharply. “Are they hurting you?” He looks away, and I can sense that he’s about to try to dodge the question. I grab him by the chin and force him to look at me. “Look at me! Tell me the truth.”

He chuckles at my boldness, but when he meets my eyes as requested, there is pain and sorrow in those black depths. “I am being kept isolated. It…cuts me off from the dream world. I have no dreams of my own. I need to latch on to those of others.”

Despair wells up within me; it feels like something is breaking into jagged shards deep in my chest. “So you…you will be all alone in that tiny cell.”

“It is not the first time,” he says. “There have been periods when I have been isolated for a long, long while.”

I think back to when I first glimpsed him in that room—his amorphous shape, his sluggish movements—and how eagerly he responded when he heard a human voice, saw a human face.

How he slowly changed into a more humanoid form again. A suspicion nags at me, so horrible I am tempted to push it away before I can confirm it, but I can’t let myself. “You were alone for a while before I began to work there, weren’t you?” I ask quietly.

He looks at me. Dips his head in a barely perceptible nod.

“How long, Somnus?”

He sighs, a sound like the wind rustling through leaves. “I am not sure,” he says. “A very long time. I was being punished. I acted out in anger, tried to escape.”

I stare at him, swallowing hard. “They told me your escape attempt was in the eighties. That was…that wasdecadesago.”

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