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“Axel?” I said softly as I entered his bedroom.
He was curled up on the bed, his sheets and bedcovers all kicked down to the foot of the bed. He was still fully dressed except for his shoes that laid haphazardly beside the bed. He haven’t even changed out of the clothes he wore during the competition.
“No,” he muttered tearfully. “No.” His face was covered in sweat, but there was a line of wetness on his cheeks. Tears.
“Axel, wake up.” I came to the side of the bed and reached out to touch his shoulder.
“No!” he shouted out. “Don’t touch me. No. You can’t touch me. No. No! Don’t touch me there. Stop it. No! It doesn’t feel good. Stop it! I don’t like it.”
“Axel, you have to wake up,” I said, gently shaking him.
“Stop it!” he shrieked. “I don’t want you to touch me! Stop it!”
A heartfelt sob rose to my chest as tears filled my eyes when the horror of what I realized Axel was crying about hit me. I pulled my hand back hoping it would ease his crying, but he kept whimpering and begging not to be touched.
“You’re having an awful nightmare, Axel,” I said, coming in close to his face. “You have to wake up. Wake up.”
I was hoping that was all it was. A nightmare. But as I watched his face winced, and his body coil into himself like a wounded child, I knew something horrible had happened to Axel, and it may have traumatized him to this day.
Chapter 19
Layla
After a while, Axel calmed down and seemed to have slipped into a more pleasant dream. I reached out to put the back of my hand against his brow.
He was incredibly hot.
“Damn it, Axel,” I whispered. “What’s going on with you?”
I pulled my phone out of my purse and dialed the number Errol King had just given me.
“Mr. King. This is Layla. Layla Tyler.”
“Yes, Miss Tyler,” he said in a very professional tone. “What can I do for you?”
“I’m at your son’s house and he doesn’t seem to be doing very well. He has a fever and...”
