Page 99 of Reckoning

He lets out a laugh, one hand wrapping around my throat. “I believe I’m the one fucking you.”

* * *

I wake,sweating, screaming, though no discernible sound seems to have left my lips. The covers are wrapped around me and it takes all my effort to figure out how to get them off.

I get up, forcing myself to move, to wake properly.

With every blink of my eyes, I see flashes, moments, horrific memories I don’t want to acknowledge. I didn’t do Martin’s exercise, I knew better than to try it, but apparently my brain fixated on it anyway and the nightmare I had was worse, so much worse than they’ve been in a long time.

It’s reckless to do it. Stupid. Completely insane but I don’t care.

I creep out of my room, out into the silent hallway beyond.

I know exactly where Koen’s room is. He might not have pointed it out but I’ve spotted him leaving it enough times to remember. I still haven’t figured out why he insists on this separation. Why he’s being so damn chivalrous about it.

When I step inside all I can hear is the soft sound of someone breathing. I pause, realising that he’s asleep and suddenly my nerves get the better of me. My fear takes over.

Maybe this is a mistake.

Maybe this really is stupid.

As I turn to go, something grabs me. I’m thrown back and I land, smacking my head in the process.

A gun is rammed under my chin, forcing me to stop fighting, to stop moving. I whimper but strong arms hold me in place. I can’t move an inch. I try to shift but it feels like my body won’t respond. Like I’m suddenly trapped.

“Sofia? What are you doing in here?” He growls.

“I, I couldn’t sleep.” I stammer.

Koen lets out a low breath and I realise he’s on top of me. That it’s his weight is holding me down, stopping me from going anywhere.

He takes the gun away, tosses it aside, and then scoops me up in his arms.

“You shouldn’t be sneaking about after dark.” He states as he starts moving. “Especially not into my room. It’s not safe.”

“I thought you were safe.” I murmur back.

He pauses, looking down at me and even in the semi-darkness I can see that frown on his face. “Why did you come?” He asks.

I gulp, unsure if I can even explain it. “I, I had a nightmare,” I begin. “It was dark, and I just, I needed you.”

“You needed me?” He repeats.

I nod, slowly, worried how he might react. “I needed you to make me feel safe.” I clarify, just as I realise he’s carried me back to my room.

He lays me down gently on the bed, then tries to pull the covers, only they’re not there, are they?

I see him frown, I see him scanning the room, trying to locate them, and his whole body seems to change as he sees the pile, too far from the bed to have simply fallen off in my haste to go find him.

“I don’t, I can’t sleep in a bed.” I murmur as a wave of shame flushes over me.

“Why not?” He asks in that deep, protective voice.

“The floor is safer.” I reply. I know logically that’s not true. Anyone can get me just as easily on the floor as they can from the bed, but still. A bed holds too many memories. A bed feels too dangerous.

He gets up, stalks over to where the covers are and grabs them. When he returns he throws them over me.

“You’re not sleeping on the floor anymore.” He states. “Dogs sleep on floors. People do not.”