smile.
“Just so you know, I’m not. Upset with you, I mean.” She shrugged, tugging the sheets up a little more. “It’s just . . . it’s a lot to take in. And I still don’t understand why you didn’t tell me about it in the first place.”
“I’ve always thought about telling you,” he said, looking ashamed. “All those nights I watched you, I wondered how life would be once you knew.”
“Really?”
He nodded. He stared at her, seeming to be lost in his own thoughts. Chantal cleared her throat after a few moments, feeling awkward.
“I’m sure waking up next to a deranged lunatic wasn’t part of your plan.” Chantal tried to laugh, but it came out more like a snort. She rubbed her arm nervously, as if she were cold. Not due to a chill in the air, but from the strange, new tension between them.
“Wait, I thought you don’t remember your dreams,” Mathias said, scooting himself closer to her.
“I-I don’t,” she said, fixated on the small amount of space between them. “I mean, I do at first, but I’ve always tried to push the images away so that I don’t dwell on them. Helps the anxiety . . .”
“Do you remember anything about this one?” He leaned against the metal headboard, watching her curiously.
Chantal looked up and couldn’t help glancing at his muscled form before meeting his gaze, trying to concentrate on his question instead of his proximity. Being around him felt different, she was more perceptive of him and her surroundings, but she didn’t want to dwell on the change quite yet.
The importance of getting the images to the warrior for him to help explain what they meant was more important than how she felt at the moment. Instead, she tried to focus on the dream, recalling the confusing images from her mind despite how it made her stomach queasy from apprehension.
A long hallway, terrified voices, and the feeling of complete and utter vulnerability crept into her mind. A man in black, evil and decrepit, stood out the sharpest. Chantal shuddered, feeling the fear and being in his presence as strongly as she did in the dream until she felt her warrior’s hand cover hers. She relaxed taking in a deep breath before she spoke.
“I remember being trapped inside of a room. Someone warned me not to go inside, but I did anyway. A man was waiting for me, and he chained me on the wall—”
“Wait, who warned you not to go in there?”
“I’m sorry,” Chantal whispered, wiping a stray tear from her eye.
“Don’t apologize. Just take it slow, okay?” Mathias laced his fingers through hers, serving as an anchor. Taking another deep breath, she resolved herself to get this all out.
“Maybe they were other Oracles, I don’t know. I remember several female voices telling me to stay away from the room. I don’t know who; I—I never saw them.”
“Do you know where they are?” His eager tone made Chantal cringe—she hated to upset him.
“I don’t know. I think they were hiding somewhere. The hallway had many closed doors and one opened. I had the feeling they were locked behind the closed doors.”
Mathias seemed to deflate. His first possible clue where other women like her could be, and she couldn’t remember the details. She felt useless and pathetic.
“Hey . . .” A gentle hand lifted her chin. As she looked into his eyes, she found nothing but compassion and understanding.
“This is going to take time. Don’t beat yourself up for not remembering the specifics the first try. You are new at trying to recall the dreams rather than pushing them away. I am here to help you, if you let me. It is my duty and honor.”
“But those precious girls out there are so much more traumatized than I am. It’s not fair! I’d rather take on that pain than watch them suffer through it.” She wasn’t sure why she felt the need to protect them as she did, even more so than her foster sisters, but the more she thought about the babies and little girls,
“Just so you know, I’m not. Upset with you, I mean.” She shrugged, tugging the sheets up a little more. “It’s just . . . it’s a lot to take in. And I still don’t understand why you didn’t tell me about it in the first place.”
“I’ve always thought about telling you,” he said, looking ashamed. “All those nights I watched you, I wondered how life would be once you knew.”
“Really?”
He nodded. He stared at her, seeming to be lost in his own thoughts. Chantal cleared her throat after a few moments, feeling awkward.
“I’m sure waking up next to a deranged lunatic wasn’t part of your plan.” Chantal tried to laugh, but it came out more like a snort. She rubbed her arm nervously, as if she were cold. Not due to a chill in the air, but from the strange, new tension between them.
“Wait, I thought you don’t remember your dreams,” Mathias said, scooting himself closer to her.
“I-I don’t,” she said, fixated on the small amount of space between them. “I mean, I do at first, but I’ve always tried to push the images away so that I don’t dwell on them. Helps the anxiety . . .”
“Do you remember anything about this one?” He leaned against the metal headboard, watching her curiously.
Chantal looked up and couldn’t help glancing at his muscled form before meeting his gaze, trying to concentrate on his question instead of his proximity. Being around him felt different, she was more perceptive of him and her surroundings, but she didn’t want to dwell on the change quite yet.
The importance of getting the images to the warrior for him to help explain what they meant was more important than how she felt at the moment. Instead, she tried to focus on the dream, recalling the confusing images from her mind despite how it made her stomach queasy from apprehension.
A long hallway, terrified voices, and the feeling of complete and utter vulnerability crept into her mind. A man in black, evil and decrepit, stood out the sharpest. Chantal shuddered, feeling the fear and being in his presence as strongly as she did in the dream until she felt her warrior’s hand cover hers. She relaxed taking in a deep breath before she spoke.
“I remember being trapped inside of a room. Someone warned me not to go inside, but I did anyway. A man was waiting for me, and he chained me on the wall—”
“Wait, who warned you not to go in there?”
“I’m sorry,” Chantal whispered, wiping a stray tear from her eye.
“Don’t apologize. Just take it slow, okay?” Mathias laced his fingers through hers, serving as an anchor. Taking another deep breath, she resolved herself to get this all out.
“Maybe they were other Oracles, I don’t know. I remember several female voices telling me to stay away from the room. I don’t know who; I—I never saw them.”
“Do you know where they are?” His eager tone made Chantal cringe—she hated to upset him.
“I don’t know. I think they were hiding somewhere. The hallway had many closed doors and one opened. I had the feeling they were locked behind the closed doors.”
Mathias seemed to deflate. His first possible clue where other women like her could be, and she couldn’t remember the details. She felt useless and pathetic.
“Hey . . .” A gentle hand lifted her chin. As she looked into his eyes, she found nothing but compassion and understanding.
“This is going to take time. Don’t beat yourself up for not remembering the specifics the first try. You are new at trying to recall the dreams rather than pushing them away. I am here to help you, if you let me. It is my duty and honor.”
“But those precious girls out there are so much more traumatized than I am. It’s not fair! I’d rather take on that pain than watch them suffer through it.” She wasn’t sure why she felt the need to protect them as she did, even more so than her foster sisters, but the more she thought about the babies and little girls,
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