AllFreeNovel
Share Us
I must have imagined it. Hilda will figure it out.
Everything will be okay.
I lie to myself the whole way back to my tent, until I’m convinced I blew it out of proportion. It was nothing. Nothing at all.
I forget all about it when I enter my tent and find Diamond and Heart gone.
My disappointment outweighs my fear.
Chapter
Twenty
My exhaustion comes out of nowhere. One moment, I’m fine, and the next, I can hardly keep myself upright. I know the night was eventful, and hobbling around on crutches doesn’t help, but at the very least, I thought I could last a little longer. When I glance at the clock and see it’s just after four in the morning, I realize I’ve hardly slept at all. That’s the detail that ultimately claims me. When I lie down in my bed, I’m out before my head even hits the pillow.
My dreams flicker with abstract shapes at first, dancing between some forms I recognize and nothing I do, but they soon solidify into a scene I know all too well—my old house and life. The pristine white kitchen was always a nightmare to keep clean. Even without cooking, it would appear dirty, so I spent plenty of time scrubbing the white countertops and floor in the hopes Roger wouldn’t come home and have an excuse to hit me. I stand in that kitchen now, the oven timer counting down as if a meal is about to be ready.
The door slams open behind me, and I jump, whirling to find Roger in the doorway. His face is contorted with anger as usual, but this time, there’s something . . . off about it. There’s something in his eyes I don’t recognize.
“Why didn’t you greet me at the door?” he demands as he throws his keys and wallet on the counter. “A good wife greets her husband.”
I glance at the oven. The food inside looks burnt, the chicken I’d been roasting long since dried out. Dinner is ruined. The timer begins to beep, signaling for me to take it out. “I needed to remove the chicken,” I offer as an excuse, despite knowing it’s unsalvageable. “I was going to come say hello?—”
I remember this memory well. It was a few weeks after my mom died. I’d still been struggling with grief, still trying to function and clearly failing.
Roger gets a whiff of the chicken as I open the oven door and his face puckers. “And you burned dinner,” he growls.
Without warning, he grabs the back of the neck as I lean down to the oven. He clutches me so hard, I cry out in pain and reach out to balance myself, finding the edge of the oven door. I scream as it burns me, and I pull my hands back, fighting against him. I’m weak compared to Roger, so I can hardly do anything.
“Let this be a lesson,” Roger sneers in my ear. “You greet me when I come home, preferably on your knees.” He pushes my face closer to the oven door.
“Stop! Please!” I cry, desperately trying to get away.
“And don’t burn dinner,” he snarls before shoving my face against the oven door. The smell of burning flesh fills my nostrils.
I startle awake, screaming and terrified, my hands going to the scar on my cheek from the first time Roger truly showed his monstrous side. I’d never seen him so angry. After that, I was burned, beaten, scarred, bludgeoned, and anything else you can imagine. It takes me a few long seconds to realize it was just a nightmare and Roger isn’t here with me, but in those seconds, my tent flaps fly open to reveal Spade.
“What is it?” he asks. “What’s wrong?”
I’m covered in a cold sweat, and I vibrate with fear despite the realization it was only a dream. I’m shaking so hard, my teeth chatter. “I’m sorry I woke you,” I murmur. “It was just a bad dream.”
He stares at me for a second before he comes into the tent and climbs up on my bed. “Scoot over,” he commands.
I do as he says, expecting him to sit on the edge of the mattress. Instead, he lies down and pats the pillow for me to do the same. When I do, he tugs me tightly against his body, his warmth chasing away my fear and the chill. The comfort I find in his arms makes me want to weep, but I hold it back.
“When I first came to cirque, my memories haunted me,” he murmurs. “Having someone close helps.”
“Who helped you?” I whisper, settling against him.
“Heart,” he answers. “We both suffered from nightmares, and we chased them away together. We’ll do the same for you.”
When he falls silent, I turn my head to look at him over my shoulder. “Spade?”
“Yes?”
“Thank you,” I whisper.
The next time I fall asleep, Roger doesn’t invade my dreams. Only Spade and his tiger do, each of them offering warmth and chasing away my nightmares.
