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DELILAH

I wake up choking. My hacking cough scrapes against my sensitive throat, and someone sits me up as my hand automatically goes to my neck.

“It’s okay,” he says and rubs circles on my back. A cool glass touches my hand, and he adds, “Small sips, baby.”

My vision hasn’t adjusted yet and I do as he said. The cold water helps soothe my throat and the first thing I see is Asher as I blink to clear my vision.

I freeze.

He was dead.

My head was inside his dead body.

There was blood on me.

But he smiles softly and my doctor steps around the sofa. “Can you remember who I am, Mrs. Newman?”

I nod and croak, “Dr. Blake.”

He smiles and I look around the room, but there’s nothing out of place and I’m wearing one of Asher’s t-shirts.

I’m home in my usual uniform.

It was a dream.

An extremely vivid, extremely fucked-up dream, but a dream, nonetheless.

Dr. Blake gestures for Asher to follow him and I watch them. Asher usually wears sweats and a t-shirt when he’s home, but he’s dressed casually and he still has his shoes on. There’s mud on the soles. Little flakes break off as he walks to the front door and leaves are stuck in the hood of his jacket. I can’t hear their conversation and their facial expressions give nothing away. Asher shakes his head, takes a deep breath, then opens the door for Dr. Blake, who nods, giving me a tight-lipped smile, and leaves.

Asher comes back to me and lifts me to sit across his thighs. He presses his lips to my forehead and takes another deep breath.

“Did I do something?” I ask.

He runs his fingers through his hair before he answers. “You went into the woods at the back of the house, and I couldn’t find you. I know I’m not supposed to tell you, but you scared the shit out of me, Lilo.”

“I’m sorry,” I murmur and hug him.

He kisses the top of my head, returning the embrace tighter than I can. “It’s not your fault, don’t apologize.”

He smells like soap. It’s comforting and clean against my mossy skin, and there’s no blood on me, just dirt. Yet, I can feel it. The stickiness of it drying and how it pulled my skin tight. The way it soaked into my hair and a shiver works up my spine at the memory of my head being surrounded by dead flesh.

The only person I can confide in is wrapped around me and he squeezes me closer as my voice lowers. “I don’t know what’s real.”

There’s no judgement or pause. He helps me easily and confidently says, “We are. I won’t leave you alone again.”

I nod and try to physically get the false memories off me. “I need a shower.”

Asher stands with me in his arms. I wrap my legs around his waist and close my eyes as I lay my cheek on his shoulder. He doesn’t say anything as he walks through the house with his cheek on my temple.

I expect to see carnage when we enter our bedroom, but everything is the same. There’s no blood and the sheets are messy from where we slept. I’m still staring at the bed when he walks into the bathroom and sits me on the vanity. Everything is clean, no blood, and I hold my arms out as he runs the shower.

Stepping between my thighs, he cups my face in both hands. “I love you, Delilah,” he says and kisses my forehead. “Do you want me to stay with you?”

As much as I need him, I don’t want to force him to be my babysitter and resent me, so I shake my head and he tips my chin up with his knuckles to place a soft kiss against my lips, and I smile, knowing this is real.

It’s all real and I press my palm flat against his chest, feeling his heartbeat under my hand as I slide off the vanity. He can see I’m really okay and I can feel that he’s alive, but it doesn’t remove his hesitance as he slowly walks backwards out of the room as though I’ll disappear if I’m not in his sights.

Pulling his t-shirt over my head, I step forward and search my body for any bloodstains. The twigs in my hair can be felt against my scalp and the strands are their normal blonde instead of blood-soaked like they would be if I had my head inside of a fresh dead body.

It was all fake.

I nearly laugh but I stop myself and turn to see Asher walking out of the bathroom. There’s a leaf stuck to the back of his head, and it frees my laugh as I call his name.

“Asher.” He turns his head. “You’ve got a?—”

My laugh dies at the sight of the three deep scratches below his ear.

My eyes snap from the scratches to his eyes and my voice lowers with realization.

“It’s you.”

His face darkens and he smiles. It makes me take a step back and I hiss, “What the fuck is wrong with you?”

He cocks his head to the side—Asher, Ghost—and takes another step forward as I reach for the closest thing to me and grab the toothbrush holder. It flies out of my hand, and I scream, “Fuck you, Asher! You made me think I was fucking crazy!”

He abruptly stops and his smile gets wider with pride as he says, “Oh, koukla mou, you’re still wrong. But now, it’s time to restart the game.”

I move back and scream for help, but he lunges forward, wrapping his hands around my throat. I push both hands against his face but his hands tighten and my vision blurs at the edges. It doesn’t distort my hearing as he whispers, “Do you remember now, my pretty girl?”

“K—”

I try to scream, but his hands cut the sound off. It all burns and the edges of my vision flickers into a black abyss as my knees weaken. More pressure is applied to my body until my legs give way and his hands wrapped around my neck are the only thing keeping me up.

My lids droop and his dark whisper is the last thing my senses can absorb.

“Go to sleep, beautiful. I’ll wake you up when it’s over.”