Page 1 of Jasper

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JASPER

They say the Boogeyman isn’t real.

How would they know? They’ve never lived in my head.

Because every time I close my eyes—he’s there.

Lurking in the dark corners of my mind, just beyond reach. A shadow without a face. A whisper without a name. And maybe that’s what makes it more terrifying—not knowing exactly what he looks like. Maybe it’s because there are more than one. Or maybe my brain, in all its silent desperation, buried the memories so deep that they got lost in the wreckage of my childhood.

Still, faceless or not, he’s real.

At least to me.

I press the heels of my palms into my eyes, hard enough to see sparks behind my lids. The pressure doesn’t help. Nothing ever does.

Fuck.

I’m so goddamn tired.

I think I could sleep for the rest of my life and still never feel rested. Still never outrun the nightmares that stalk me night after night. Now at thirty-eight, I’ve finally accepted that this is my reality. Some people get sweet dreams. I get blood and screams and the torturous sound of my mother crying.

And yet, somehow, I still function. I get up. I work. Isurvive.

Rowie and Ember claim I’m a walking storm cloud because of it—grumpy as fuck. But tough shit. Family doesn’t come with an escape clause. They’re stuck with me. Just like I’m stuck with my brothers and all our respective damage. We’re not a family so much as a patchwork of trauma stitched together, held as one with shared loyalty and love.

Some of our demons come out to play more than others. Mine never leave.

A sharp cry tears through the silence.

My body reacts before my mind does—I’m already up, already moving.

Heart in my throat.

Feet pounding against the hardwood floor.

Her sobs grow louder, escalating into gut-wrenching screams before I even reach her door. I hate this part. No matter how many times it happens, the sound always rips something out of me.

I can survive my own nightmares. Hell, I’ve made peace with them. I probably deserve them. Butshe doesn’t.

“Rowie!” I call, bursting into her room; my voice firm, but laced with urgency. “It’s okay, sweetheart. You’re safe. I’m here.”

The soft glow of the nightlight casts shadows across the room. She’s twisted in her sheets, tangled and thrashing, fighting ghosts I can’t see, but still I feel them as if they’re my own.

Her small body jerks toward the edge of the mattress, and I surge forward, catching her before she can fall. I brace myself, knowing she’ll fight me, knowing that right now, in the throes of her terror, I’m no different from those who hurt her. Touching her is the worst thing to do in this moment, but I’m sure as fuck not going to let her fall.

She kicks. Claws. Whimpers.

And it fuckingkillsme.

Every goddamn time.

She thinks I’m one of them.

Maybe Theo was right. Bed rails might help.

“Rowie,” I whisper, softer this time. “It’s Jasper. You’re safe. Shh… baby, you’re okay.”

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