That made it easier to turn sideways and put both feet over the side of the tub. She levered herself up until she was sitting on the edge of the tub and then snagged a towel.
She wanted pajamas but she was so tired she didn’t care enough to get them. She stood up and grabbed Ruben’s huge, white fluffy bathrobe and pulled it on. Then she limped into the hall and paused at the top of the stairs.
“I’m going to bed,” she yelled down.
“Good.” Sabel’s voice rose from the direction of the living room.
“Thanks for bringing me home.”
Sabel came into view at the foot of the stairs. “You shouldn’t be standing,” she said. “I’m going to stay for a bit.”
“You don’t have to.”
“Doctor’s orders. I’ll just stay until Ruben gets back. You’re not supposed to be alone.”
Sabel walked back toward the living room. Ana didn’t have the strength to argue. She took the few steps into her bedroom and collapsed across the bed.
In the darkness behind her eyelids images flashed like a slideshow: Drake’s cruelly beautiful face, the hooded men, the circle, her dream in the darkness of the falling sun, blazing serpents, running, and the feeling that something outside of her conscious mind moved her arms and legs.
She rolled onto her back and sat upright because she smelled hot sunlight. Was she dreaming now? Could she dream just a smell? Her fingers edged their way around the band of her skull as if she could pry it open and feel inside. The right side was too tender to put any pressure on.
What had really happened to her? Whenever she’d been hit in the past, she hadn’t seen visions or blacked out for long periods of time during which, apparently, she’d acted without the benefit of being conscious. And she’d been hit enough that if this was going to happen, it should have happened before. Was there some kind of lasting damage from the abuse that just now showed itself? She put her hands over her ears, wishing her freaked-out brain would just shut up for a while. She felt hands covering hers, larger and warmer, but when her eyes snapped open no one was in the room.
“Who’s there?” she whispered.
No one should be able to answer that, but the liquid voice from the man in her dream rolled through her mind. The words came with perfect clarity from the back of her skull into the gray space between her ears like any other thought she’d ever had, except for the pure alien quality, a tone utterly unlike any she’d used with herself, and a language she never knew.
She screamed with surprise and then she couldn’t stop. Deep screams came up from her gut, rough and tearing in her throat. “You fuck! You son of a bitch! No!”
She made a fist and hit the side of her head by the temple. Pain wracked her already sore skull. It triggered her body’s alarm that she’d damage herself even worse and that cut through her panic. She hit herself again, harder, and meant to again, but someone had her wrist and was forcing her hands down from her face.
Sabel knelt on the bed, her knees on either side of Ana’s legs, her hands on Ana’s wrists. Ana didn’t want to fight her, but her body reacted to being trapped with rage and renewed panic. Her right hand got loose and grabbed a fistful of Sabel’s jacket, trying to drag her off while her legs kicked.
“No, don’t…don’t!” Ana heard herself panting. She was trying to convey that Sabel needed to get off her and not try to hold her down. Constraint always made her fight, and in her already overloaded body it was so much worse, but she couldn’t make the words.
“It’s okay,” Sabel said as a counterpoint. “It’s okay. You’re safe.”
How could she be safe if the threat was inside her own head? Her body fought reflexively, spurred by the panic of being restrained. She wrenched at Sabel’s jacket again making her lose her balance and slide to the right. The pressure of Sabel’s weight came off her legs and she kicked up with her
She wanted pajamas but she was so tired she didn’t care enough to get them. She stood up and grabbed Ruben’s huge, white fluffy bathrobe and pulled it on. Then she limped into the hall and paused at the top of the stairs.
“I’m going to bed,” she yelled down.
“Good.” Sabel’s voice rose from the direction of the living room.
“Thanks for bringing me home.”
Sabel came into view at the foot of the stairs. “You shouldn’t be standing,” she said. “I’m going to stay for a bit.”
“You don’t have to.”
“Doctor’s orders. I’ll just stay until Ruben gets back. You’re not supposed to be alone.”
Sabel walked back toward the living room. Ana didn’t have the strength to argue. She took the few steps into her bedroom and collapsed across the bed.
In the darkness behind her eyelids images flashed like a slideshow: Drake’s cruelly beautiful face, the hooded men, the circle, her dream in the darkness of the falling sun, blazing serpents, running, and the feeling that something outside of her conscious mind moved her arms and legs.
She rolled onto her back and sat upright because she smelled hot sunlight. Was she dreaming now? Could she dream just a smell? Her fingers edged their way around the band of her skull as if she could pry it open and feel inside. The right side was too tender to put any pressure on.
What had really happened to her? Whenever she’d been hit in the past, she hadn’t seen visions or blacked out for long periods of time during which, apparently, she’d acted without the benefit of being conscious. And she’d been hit enough that if this was going to happen, it should have happened before. Was there some kind of lasting damage from the abuse that just now showed itself? She put her hands over her ears, wishing her freaked-out brain would just shut up for a while. She felt hands covering hers, larger and warmer, but when her eyes snapped open no one was in the room.
“Who’s there?” she whispered.
No one should be able to answer that, but the liquid voice from the man in her dream rolled through her mind. The words came with perfect clarity from the back of her skull into the gray space between her ears like any other thought she’d ever had, except for the pure alien quality, a tone utterly unlike any she’d used with herself, and a language she never knew.
She screamed with surprise and then she couldn’t stop. Deep screams came up from her gut, rough and tearing in her throat. “You fuck! You son of a bitch! No!”
She made a fist and hit the side of her head by the temple. Pain wracked her already sore skull. It triggered her body’s alarm that she’d damage herself even worse and that cut through her panic. She hit herself again, harder, and meant to again, but someone had her wrist and was forcing her hands down from her face.
Sabel knelt on the bed, her knees on either side of Ana’s legs, her hands on Ana’s wrists. Ana didn’t want to fight her, but her body reacted to being trapped with rage and renewed panic. Her right hand got loose and grabbed a fistful of Sabel’s jacket, trying to drag her off while her legs kicked.
“No, don’t…don’t!” Ana heard herself panting. She was trying to convey that Sabel needed to get off her and not try to hold her down. Constraint always made her fight, and in her already overloaded body it was so much worse, but she couldn’t make the words.
“It’s okay,” Sabel said as a counterpoint. “It’s okay. You’re safe.”
How could she be safe if the threat was inside her own head? Her body fought reflexively, spurred by the panic of being restrained. She wrenched at Sabel’s jacket again making her lose her balance and slide to the right. The pressure of Sabel’s weight came off her legs and she kicked up with her
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