Page 43 of With Love

Adrienne

A pair of arms are wrapped tightly around me. Tears are blurring my sight. Lock is standing in front of me telling me that I have to do it, but I don’t know what he is talking about.

He hands me a gun. The arms that were wrapped around me vanish as Lock steps out of my way, allowing me a glimpse at a man, beaten and bloodied, hanging from the ceiling behind him.

There is blood everywhere. He is sliced open and blood is running like rain down his body. I can feel myself heaving from both the sight and the stench.

“You can do it. You will do it.” Lock pushes the gun into my hand once again. “Or I’ll kill you.”

“One!” Lock shouts at me. I am crying. I can’t do this.

“Two!” Tears falling faster as I realize what needs to be done. I lift the gun to my temple.

“Three!” I pull the trigger.

BANG!

“Adrienne! Adrienne, sweetie, wake up! It’s okay, you’re alright. You were having a bad dream.”

Marshall has me cuddled up against his chest. I am freezing but I am covered in a sheen of sweat.

Suddenly, there is shouting and banging coming from the other side of the door and I begin to scream.

“Shhh… shhh… it’s okay. It’s just Lucy and Owen. I am going to let them know that everything is okay. I’ll be right back.”

Marshall tucks me in like a burrito before opening the door to my room and explaining that I’m okay. Suddenly, Marshall is thrown backward and falls over the sofa behind him.

Owen storms into the room, followed by Lucy who helps Marshall up to his feet.

Owen places his hand on my forehead and leans over me.

“What happened? Why is he in here? Did he hurt you?”

“How many God damn times do I have to tell you that I would never hurt her?!” Marshall shouts from across the room.

I sit up, take a deep breath and rub the sweat from my face.

“No, of course he didn’t hurt me, Owen. And he’s here because this is where he slept last night.” I say in exasperation. Why does he keep thinking that Marshall is going to hurt me?

Owen looks like I just told him that I murdered his mother. He’s pissed. I’ve never seen this look before. I scoot myself back on the bed a little bit and he must realize that he’s scaring me because the look on his face vanishes.

“What happened then?” Owen sits down on the bed next to me and puts his arm around my shoulders. His touch feels intrusive, where Marshall’s felt warm and comforting.

I remove his arm from my shoulders and get up, off of the bed.

“I’m fine, I just had a bad dream that’s all.”

“It sounded like you were being murdered.”

How right you are.I scoff, thinking to myself. As the shock of the dream wears off, the tears begin tumbling down my cheeks.

“What was it this time?” Owen asks me softly, slowly bridging the gap between us.

Marshall scowls at him from across the room. My gaze turns back to Owen.

“Barrett. The pit.” I turn my head searching for Marshall’s emerald gaze. The gaze that has always calmed me. I walk over to the sofa where he’s now sitting, and I join him.

“I’m so sorry that I frightened everyone,” I begin.

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