Page 123 of Frost and Death
A tightness squeezes my body, and I hiss, flinching from it, needing to see my family again.
I am going to be with them.
“Tove!”
Dorit’s voice fills my consciousness, and my eyes jolt open. Her long brown hair is undone, waves a mess as she looks upon me with worry.
A bead of sweat trickles down the side of my brow as I take in my surroundings, recognizing my rooms in Palaena. My heart hammers as Dorit’s arms remain tight on my shoulders, my dream crashing against the forefront of my mind, bringing tears to the surface.
A choked gasp comes out instead of words, and Dorit’s face wrinkles, pulling me to her as the thick and torturous wave of grief drowns me.
Her stuffy floral scent is the only thing grounding me.
I snake my arms around her, squeezing her as I weep into the crook of her neck. Tremors rock through my body as she holds me tight, her hand running in my hair and whispering the same words over and over.
“You’re alright. You’re okay.”
“I-I’m so sorry,” I whisper, shaking my head at my shortcomings unfolding around another person.
Dorit breaks away from our embrace. “You have nothing to apologize for.”
I keep my eyes downcast, my tears cold against my heated cheeks. “No one should ever see me like this.”
Niko’s words from the past surface, reminding me of the very few who have seen me in such a vulnerable state.
A pinching nerve surrounds my heart at his words, hating how true they really were.
Dorit tilts my chin up. “Do you want to talk about it?”
My lips quiver at her compassion, my heart unable to keep up with her kindness and awareness of me.
She reminds me so much of Runa and Betina, and I cannot stop myself from confiding in her.
“The deaths of my family follow me in my dreams.”
“It is never fun to relive that,” Dorit says carefully, squeezing my upper arm.
I wipe my eyes and look away, biting my lip before confessing more she should know. “Most are nightmares I can work through, but others can lead to sleepwalking.”
“I am sorry you experienced one of these tonight, and thank you for letting me know it could be worse,” Dorit says, voice tender, wobbling through her choked words.
I nod to myself quietly, tears still fighting to escape.
“I will ensure to check on you more often.”
My shoulders cave in, feeling unworthy of her kindness. “Y-You don’t have to do that.” I rub my sides with regret, wishing to not burden another person with my problems.
“Pfft,” she remarks.
But my gaze averts from her, peering out to the window, trying to solve everything on my own.
Dorit takes my hand, the cold and brittle touch soothing my heated skin. I stare at our hands as she pats mine gently.
“Grief is a part of you, Tove, as is your trauma, your past, your everything.”
I remain quiet. They aren’t just a part of me. They’re all I know about me.
But it catches me off guard when Dorit speaks again.
