Page 49 of Yours on the Canvas

“Found you.”

* * *

Screams rip out of my lungs, and I bolt upright in bed, the sun barely peeking through. Sweat drips down my skin as my chest fights for air. My hands claw into my hair, pulling at it, desperate for something to ground me. I drag a shaking hand down my face, wiping tears only for more to replace them.

“Mumma.” Sobs tear through my throat, as I call out her name.

“Jack! Oh, baby.” Silas sits up beside me instantly, pulling me into his lap, guiding me until I’m straddling him, pressed tight against his chest. I bury my face into his neck, my mouth latching onto him. His arms wrap around me, strong and steady, holding me together as I fall apart.

My body won’t stop trembling as the dream clings to me like a second skin.

I can still smell her perfume filling my nostrils. Hear her body falling down the stairs, feel every memory scraping against my ribs.

Silas tightens his hold on me, one hand cradling the back of my head, the other locked around my waist. His chest rises and falls against mine, steady and slow, trying to pull my breathing into rhythm with his.

“I’ve got you,” he murmurs, voice low and rough with worry. “I’ve got you.” He shifts, his thumb slowly stroking the back of my head, slow and grounding. “Breathe with me,” he whispers. “Right here. With me.”

I try, and fail. My lungs seize again, and another sob tears out of me, raw and broken.

Silas doesn’t flinch, not letting go. He holds me like he’s holding a fragile glass vase. Precious under his touch.

His lips press gently against any part of my skin he can reach. His hands move over my back and arms in slow, careful strokes, and I can feel his fingers tremble against my skin.

A rough sound escapes me, and his hands stop instantly. The tremors inside me settle just enough for my lungs to catch, enough for me to breathe, enough for me to handle his touch.

Nobody else touches me. Not Finn, Eli. Nobody.

Only Silas.

Silas holds me until my body calms, until my tears dry on my cheeks.

“Do you want to talk about it?” he asks softly.

I shake my head. “Later.” I’m not ready. Not yet. I need something else first. I need to feel something that isn’t fear.” I lean back, and press my hand to my chest. “I need to feel here. I need to feel alive.

I shift in his lap, my body moving without thought, seeking more pressure, more contact, seeking anything that pulls me out of the dream still clinging to my skin. The movement drags a rough sound from my throat, and Silas’s arms tighten around me, steady and protective.

“I need to feel,” I whisper, my voice shaking. “Silas… help me.” I pull back just enough to look at him, my forehead pressed to his. “Please.”

He lifts his hand and rests it on the nape of my neck.

“You sure, baby? You just woke up screaming, it’s not the…”

“I know.” Interrupting him. “I need to feel something, Silas. I need to feel you. Please… Just for a little while.”

Silas’s thumb strokes the back of my neck, his forehead presses to mine, his breath warm against my cheek. He doesn’t move in a way that pushes anything further. He just holds me, firm and present, letting me feel the weight of him, the warmth of him, the steadiness of him.

“I’m right here,” he murmurs. “I’m not going anywhere.”

I shift closer, seeking pressure, seeking contact, seeking something that pulls me out of the dream still clinging to my skin. Silas tightens his arms around me, keeping me anchored against him, keeping me safe.

“Let me help you breathe first,” he whispers. “Let me get you back.” His voice imploring me to agree.

I nod, “Okay.”

“I’ve got you,” he says again, voice low and sure. “Feel me here. Feel me holding you.”

I do as I’m told, my bare chest brushing against his bare skin. His hands still move slowly over my skin, and then he turns me, gently laying me on the bed.