Page 32 of Darkened Promises

“That’s okay.” Noah nods. “Do you want to tell us why so we can help?”

My teeth grit at his prying. I want her to relax, not become more panicked.

“I don’t like the thought of not being able to see. If someone’s here, and I can’t see…I need to be able to see.”

Her knuckles whiten as she twists the material, and even though it tugs the T-shirt collar tightly around my neck, I don’t stop her.

I swear, if he tries to ask her more about it, I’m going to lean over and throttle him myself. Whether he decides against it on his own or can feel my intentions, he leaves it.

“Okay, the light stays on,” he promises, lying back down on his side, his front to her back.

“Don’t you spoon me,” I warn. When Rosy lets out the smallest, softest chuckle, I almost consider letting him.

Almost.

EIGHTEEN

NOAH

Something shoves into my stomach and knocks the breath out of me, quickly pulling me from my slumber. I start to cough, trying to inhale through the pain and lack of air, when I hear whimpering. I shoot up in bed, and Nate does the same beside me. The space in the bed between us is empty.

“What—”

“Rosy,” I cough out, still struggling to get my breath back. My abdomen aches from the impact. Seeing her curled up on the floor to the side, I scramble off the bed, barely missing Bry and Max as they crawl out of the bedding they must have piled on the floor sometime during the night.

“What do we do?” Bry asks, crouching down next to me, his hair flattened on one side and sticking up on the other.

Rosy doesn’t seem to hear or even see us. It must’ve been her who kicked or kneed me when she frantically got out of bed with whatever woke her.

“Don’t crowd her. Back up.” Worry laces my tone, making it harsh. My arms fly out to halt the others. “Rosy, sweetheart? It’s okay. You’re home. You’re safe.”

Her body trembles, strung tight with tension, and my soul aches seeing her on the floor with her back pushed as far into the wall as possible. Her arms are wrapped tightly around her legs, making herself small.

After she’d requested the lamp be left on, we hoped it would reassure her if she woke up. Considering her now, it hasn’t helped at all. Instead, it’s highlighting every tremor she makes, every harsh intake of her panicked breath, and every bruise and mark still visible on her skin.

She doesn’t answer or acknowledge us, and Nate growls in agitation. His hands fist the material of his shorts, his knuckles almost translucent. A pained groan sounds from beside me, and I glance to see Max’s hands woven into the thick strands of his hair, tugging at them harshly as his tortured gaze remains locked on her.

I flick my attention back to Rosy; she’s my priority. Her eyes are glazed, and her arms curl tighter around herself. She’s not here with us. Her mouth moves, but she doesn’t make a sound, keeping it trapped within.

“What’s happening to her?” Bry whispers; his voice is as raw as I feel.

“Rosy, I need you to come back to us. Focus on the sound of my voice. Feel the carpet beneath your feet,” I coax, trying to hold down the vibrating urge in my body to lean in and hold her. She doesn’t seem to realise where she is. I don’t want her to startle and panic, thinking that it’s Peter holding her.

It would cut me open even more to hear her terrified as I held her.

“Noah,” Nate warns. I know he won’t hold back much longer.

Moshi takes that moment to wander over to her. He approaches slowly, as if he knows how fragile she’s feeling. He brushes his small body against her legs, and she immediately stiffens. Then he pushes into her again, and we all hold our breath as her hand darts out. Her slim fingers glide along his fur, and her breaths slow with each pass. Her gasps eventually ease into something less laboured.

“Good, Rosy. Remember, you’re safe. You’re home.” My voice lowers as I try to keep my tone as soft and soothing as possible.

“N-Noah?” she stammers, blinking owlishly at us. Her gaze travels over my face in confusion. “What happened?”

“I think you had a bad dream.”

Nate vibrates next to me. His need to be near her is so strong that it strums through me too.

“Oh.” She sniffs. Her head thuds back into the wall, and she stares up at the ceiling.