Demon by Laura DeLuca

eyes.
    “What … what is it?” she half mumbled, her voice still thick with sleep.
    Justyn didn’t reply. She squinted to adjust to the pitch darkness, and saw he was still sleeping beside her, though not at all peacefully. His forehead was beaded with sweat, and his arms thrashed from side-to-side. He was obviously in the thralls of some awful nightmare. Rebecca knew the feeling. After what happened with Debbie, there were many nights she woke up screaming as well.
    “Becca! No!” Justyn cried out again, and Rebecca put her hand on his shoulder. It took several gentle shakes before he reacted to her touch. Then he darted up with a gasp and looked around the room, his eyes wild, still stuck in that awkward stage between dreaming and wakefulness. Rebecca wrapped her arms around his bare chest to try and comfort him.
    “It’s okay, Justyn. It was only a dream.”
    She could still feel his heart pounding as he struggled to catch his breath. He clung to her almost desperately for a minute without speaking. She waited, giving him time to calm down before she questioned him. Then, as though nothing had happened, he stood from the bed and ran a hand through his hair.
    “I’m going to get some water. I’ll be right back.”
    Rebecca blinked a few times. She was a little puzzled since he normally didn’t try to hide his feelings from her. She knew she was never going to fall back to sleep without him by her side. So she climbed out of bed, grabbing her terrycloth robe along the way to fight off the early morning chill, and followed him into the kitchen. The cold air didn’t seem to bother Justyn. He stood at the counter in only his sweatpants, rubbing his bad shoulder. An untouched glass of water sat on the counter beside him.
    “Do you want to talk about it?”
    “It was just a dream,” he told her and tried to shrug it off. “It isn’t a big deal.”
    Rebecca’s mind was still foggy from sleep. Nevertheless, she knew whatever it was had been a big deal, especially to someone like Justyn, who held the firm belief dreams stemmed from either the subconscious or beyond and always had meaning. She tried to give him another gentle nudge of encouragement. “Maybe it won’t seem so bad if you talk about it.”
    He shook his head, flinched, and rubbed his eyes. “Damn, I have a splitting headache.”
    Rebecca felt her brows furrow with concern. Justyn often got headaches when his shoulder bothered him. The doctors had mumbled something about the muscles and nerves in that area all being connected and damaged by the bullet wound. They insisted it wasn’t anything to be concerned about, but Rebecca always worried anyway. She was a chronic worrier by nature, and she hated to see the man she loved in pain.
    “Sit down,” she ordered. “I’ll make you some of your mom’s willow bark tea. But then I want an explanation.”
    “No, really, I’m okay. I don’t need tea.” He pulled her against him, burrowing his face in her hair. He held her so tight she had a little trouble breathing. “You’re always so good to me,” he whispered. “I love you, Becca. More than you even know. If anything ever happened to you … if anyone hurt you….”
    “Is that was the dream was about?” she asked. “Someone hurting me? You called my name out a few times in your sleep.”
    He gave her a weak smile. “I suppose that’s better than shouting out some other girl’s name.”
    She pulled away from him, placing her hands on her hips. “Stop trying to change the subject.”
    “All right, I’ll tell you.” He sighed deeply with resignation. “In the dream, you were alone and terrified, surrounded by fire. You were crying and calling out to me to save you. I saw myself standing there, moving toward you, but I had no control. It was like I was outside of my own body. You were looking up at me, but instead of looking relieved that I was there, you cowered away from me, like you were afraid. The fire kept getting brighter and I