weeks.
“Then, a few nights ago—I heard your cries again from out in the woods.”
“So? What? You’re like stalking me or something?” The thought abhorred me.
“No. No,” he said holding his hands up in surrender. “I just—I check up on you every few weeks to make sure the nightmares aren’t too bad. But then the other night—your cries—I knew something bad had happened.”
“So you know,” I said, and hung my head, wished for curtains of thick long hair to hide my shame.
He dropped to his knees on the floor in front of me. His hands shook, restrained as he warred with the desire to hold me, yet he was still afraid to touch me. “Emari, don’t,” his voice came with a gentle force, quiet, from deep within him. His trembling hand finally touched my face. I winced but didn’t pull away. He lifted my chin to look into his eyes. “Emari,” he whispered, “you did nothing wrong. It was all him.” His warm hand cupped my face and he gazed into my soul. “And I swear to you,” he said solemnly, “I will find that, animal, and I will kill him for what he did to you.”
His memories of me that first night after the attack played before my mind like a horror movie. Nick relived every moment of the attack with me; his gut turned cold with fear, his heart raced for freedom, the blows bruised his face, his body—so great was his empathy towards me. In return, I felt his sorrow, his anger, his compassion. I whined and pulled away, gratefully shattered the images, as the intensity of his emotions overwhelmed me.
He sat for several long moments, caressed my hand with his thumb, and gazed intently into my eyes. Without a word, he willed me to believe in him, to trust him. Slowly a warm peace drifted over me, and my eyelids fluttered. I nodded myself awake, “Nick, please. I don’t want to forget,” I murmured drowsily. He pulled my head to his shoulder and slid my body down onto the bed. “Please. Don’t make me forget.” I clutched weakly at his shirt, but I heard his relinquished sigh.
“As you wish. Now sleep.” He kissed my forehead. I felt heavy, warm, content. “Sleep, my love,” I could have sworn he whispered and that his lips lightly brushed my cheek as he spoke; like a butterfly kiss, his breath warm and sweet upon my face. From deep inside myself, I could hear the quiet rustle of his clothes as he moved, picked up Eddyson and tucked him in at my side.
Chapter 10 Black Velvet
Misty coral light bathed the Eastern sky, the trees and valleys still cloaked in darkness. The pink morning stretched its fingers across the hard frozen farmland that billowed and rolled in shimmering waves of white. Winter obscured the land that, in the summer, was the epitome of America’s ‘amber waves of grain.’ The gleam of the snow chased away the stark nakedness that winter cast on the land.
My room felt nearly as barren when I awoke to find Nick gone, and it frightened me. What if it had all been a dream or I made it all up? Although, since when did I remember my dreams in such vivid detail? When did I remember them at all? Maybe I was crazy and just too much in denial to own up to it.
At least he was true to his word; I could still remember him—him, the entire conversation, and every memory he imparted to me. I sighed and rolled over to find Eddyson staring curiously up at me, his paint-dipped tail thumped loudly on the bed. “Morning, Puppa. Come come. Snug up.” He inched closer on his round little belly and tucked himself against my chest.
Eddyson’s body was warm, soft, like a living teddy bear—my teddy
“Then, a few nights ago—I heard your cries again from out in the woods.”
“So? What? You’re like stalking me or something?” The thought abhorred me.
“No. No,” he said holding his hands up in surrender. “I just—I check up on you every few weeks to make sure the nightmares aren’t too bad. But then the other night—your cries—I knew something bad had happened.”
“So you know,” I said, and hung my head, wished for curtains of thick long hair to hide my shame.
He dropped to his knees on the floor in front of me. His hands shook, restrained as he warred with the desire to hold me, yet he was still afraid to touch me. “Emari, don’t,” his voice came with a gentle force, quiet, from deep within him. His trembling hand finally touched my face. I winced but didn’t pull away. He lifted my chin to look into his eyes. “Emari,” he whispered, “you did nothing wrong. It was all him.” His warm hand cupped my face and he gazed into my soul. “And I swear to you,” he said solemnly, “I will find that, animal, and I will kill him for what he did to you.”
His memories of me that first night after the attack played before my mind like a horror movie. Nick relived every moment of the attack with me; his gut turned cold with fear, his heart raced for freedom, the blows bruised his face, his body—so great was his empathy towards me. In return, I felt his sorrow, his anger, his compassion. I whined and pulled away, gratefully shattered the images, as the intensity of his emotions overwhelmed me.
He sat for several long moments, caressed my hand with his thumb, and gazed intently into my eyes. Without a word, he willed me to believe in him, to trust him. Slowly a warm peace drifted over me, and my eyelids fluttered. I nodded myself awake, “Nick, please. I don’t want to forget,” I murmured drowsily. He pulled my head to his shoulder and slid my body down onto the bed. “Please. Don’t make me forget.” I clutched weakly at his shirt, but I heard his relinquished sigh.
“As you wish. Now sleep.” He kissed my forehead. I felt heavy, warm, content. “Sleep, my love,” I could have sworn he whispered and that his lips lightly brushed my cheek as he spoke; like a butterfly kiss, his breath warm and sweet upon my face. From deep inside myself, I could hear the quiet rustle of his clothes as he moved, picked up Eddyson and tucked him in at my side.
Chapter 10 Black Velvet
Misty coral light bathed the Eastern sky, the trees and valleys still cloaked in darkness. The pink morning stretched its fingers across the hard frozen farmland that billowed and rolled in shimmering waves of white. Winter obscured the land that, in the summer, was the epitome of America’s ‘amber waves of grain.’ The gleam of the snow chased away the stark nakedness that winter cast on the land.
My room felt nearly as barren when I awoke to find Nick gone, and it frightened me. What if it had all been a dream or I made it all up? Although, since when did I remember my dreams in such vivid detail? When did I remember them at all? Maybe I was crazy and just too much in denial to own up to it.
At least he was true to his word; I could still remember him—him, the entire conversation, and every memory he imparted to me. I sighed and rolled over to find Eddyson staring curiously up at me, his paint-dipped tail thumped loudly on the bed. “Morning, Puppa. Come come. Snug up.” He inched closer on his round little belly and tucked himself against my chest.
Eddyson’s body was warm, soft, like a living teddy bear—my teddy
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