Page 24 of Lash

I find the small round knob and lever it open and jab it hard, feel skin break and guts puncture. Stab. Stab. Stab.

Fresh hot blood splashes my face and he howls in agony. Rage blazes through me and I cannot stop my hand from stabbing because he's still moving, reaching for me with cold cruel hands that will kill me if I let them touch me, hands that will choke and crush.

TATIANA.

WAKE UP.

WAKE UP.

I'm not dreaming. This is real. I'm not asleep.

I cannot wake up, cannot wake up, cannot wake up.

Stab, stab, stab. Blood splashes, and I stab so hard his soft belly presses hot and wet against my fist where it clutches the blood-slick handle of the knife.

Vomit sears my throat and boils against my fused teeth, stitched lips.

"Tatiana!" Shaking, shaking.

I feel hands, but these are gentle, comforting. Brutally strong and rough with calluses, but they cradle me close and soothe the panic.

"It is a nightmare, Lovely One. You are safe. It's not real."

The voice is beautiful. There's no other word. His accent lilts, curves, dances gracefully across the syllables.

Lash.

Warmth flows through me, washes over me—the comforting heat of safety chasing away the cold of terror.

The blood on my hand drips, drips onto concrete, staining the filthy wet ground.

"Tatiana," comes that beautiful voice once more. "Wake up, Lovely One."

The dripping and drooling of the hot, sticky blood slows, and the darkness around me swirls.

"Tatiana, wake up. You are dreaming."

The knife in my fist loses reality, loses substance. The soft heavy weight of dead, cooling flesh crushing me fades.

"I have you, Tatiana. You are safe now. There is nothing to fear. You can wake up, now. You are safe. It is okay."

A shudder ripples through me; I blink awake. I'm sweat-drenched, fear-parched, terror-drunk. I feel strong hard arms cradling me. Lash's big, firm, broad body shelters me, shields me from the world beyond my narrow bunk. Another shudder wracks me.

"It was him," I whisper. "He was going to rape me. I couldn't stop stabbing him."

His arms tighten. "You did what you had to do, Tatiana. I know it was awful. I am so sorry you had to experience that."

I want to sob, but it's stuck behind my teeth. I can only shake my head. "I keep…feelingit."

He pulls me closer yet, and his warmth soaks into me, and the strength of his arms around me breaks the chains of the nightmare. "I know. I know. But it will fade in time."

I breathe out slowly. "Do you still have nightmares, Lash?"

"Of people I kill?" he asks.

I nod.

"No. Not really. I used to, when I was young. For several years, I dreamed of the first time I killed someone. But I have not had that dream in many, many years." A soft sigh. "I dream of other horrors, now."