Page 6 of Unmasking You (Hidden Hearts #1)

Chapter 5

Jamie

I come to an awakened state, feeling as if someone is trying to restart my heart.

In a vain attempt to protect myself, my arms are in front of my face, and I’m gripping my elbows so hard my hands are hurting. The smell of sweat is suffocating me, choking me. The fear awakens my need to fight or flee. I slowly move my arms down, away from my face, still afraid I’ll come face to face with my nightmares.

My thoughts are all bungled, making old memories and reality merge, spiking my fear of being trapped in the past.

Whispered words fill the room, and it takes a while to understand it’s me. “This isn’t real… I’m no longer that boy.”

The sound of my broken voice saying words makes my stomach revolt, trying to expel something lodged inside me, but it never quite achieves the goal.

Sweat drips from my hair into my eyes, and only the sting makes me aware that my eyes are open. I can’t see anything, still standing between the nightmare and reality. My body is wet, like I’d jumped into the water, but instead of sliding down my body, it’s clinging to me, as though the fear has impregnated my entire being.

My chest is pounding as if I’ve been running for my life—which I did, so hard and so desperately, but I was still caught.

The sound of my heart echoing in the room is matched by my uncontrollable breathing. For a moment, I lie there, unable to tell if the pain in every part of my body is real or part of the dream.

The walls around me don’t look familiar; they seem to move with the rhythm of my breathing, getting closer the more I reach consciousness. The shadows are becoming enemies from the past, those who are never far from my mind.

My body is slow as my mind is still caught in the torment, a reminder of the reality of the past. I move slowly because it’s like thousands of knives are piercing my skin, but they’re nothing compared to the pain in my heart. A pain that never goes away; it’s lodged there like a thorn, impossible to remove.

My body feels as heavy as if a thousand-pound rock is sitting on me. My breathing becomes even shallower because I can’t move. I try harder to reach for the bedside lamp. I’m sure I’ll be safe when it’s on. I try steadying my breath, hoping it will help my brain to function normally, but the rising panic is making it impossible.

I shoot my hand out, reaching for safety, and knock over the glass of water I always have sitting next to me just in case I wake up thirsty. The dripping of the water on the floor brings me backwards into the nightmare instead of pulling me out.

The wet, muffled sounds created by shoes hitting a small amount of water fill the room, and while I realise I’m not there any longer, I want to curl in on myself again before I’m pulled back into the torment I’m fighting so hard to dispel.

I sit up, hoping the remnants of my bad dream will disappear, even just for now, but it seems my mind is still clouded by it. The shouts, now subdued by reality, of those voices I want to forget are still so very present, and those faces are what nightmares are made of.

Once the light is on, I welcome the soft light like it was the sun illuminating the room. I right the glass with trembling fingers—I’ll think about cleaning the floor later—and look around the space, seeing my room but unable to shake the feeling that I’m in a foreign place.

The sound of my phone buzzing pulls my attention back to the bedside table. My unsteady fingers cause me to drop it a few times before I’m able to pick it up. The cold sensation of the phone anchors me to the reality I so want to be a part of and makes me feel like I’m a step closer to safety.

My head is still buzzing from the chaotic events of my sleep, and I’m still struggling to believe I’m in a different time, a different reality, and that nothing they do can harm me any longer.

I take deep breaths to calm myself and to shake the remains of the nightmare away. Holding them for a three count and exhaling for three, to allow my mind and body to pull themselves back from the high of rushing adrenaline.

What I can’t shake is the taste of the words I hate the most. It still lingers on my tongue. “Please, Shane… please… save me.”

I was saved, but I was long gone when it finally happened.