Sea Kissed - Spencer Spears Page 0,37

I could have sworn.

And he’d touched my wrist, like he was trying to reassure himself I was okay, even if he had pulled away right after.

‘Some weird sex thing,’ Daisy had said. It hadn’t been—but did the fact that she’d asked mean something?

Probably not. Holden had been grossed out at the thought. But there was something else Daisy had said. Something about a phone, maybe? Or a camera?

Sleep came before I could remember.

It was hard to say how long I dreamt before the nightmares started up again, but start they did. Shadowy figures chasing me around the billiard table. Frog drowning in the ocean, his little paws slipping beneath the waves before I could grab him. Holden finding me in the shower, huddled in a corner, demanding to know why I’d covered all his library books in yogurt. I put my hands in front of my face to block out the anger in his eyes, and when I looked up again, something shifted.

Holden was gone. Everything was gone. I couldn’t see a thing, just black, but I knew instinctively that I was blindfolded. I could feel my arms bent behind me, pinioned with ropes or—no, that cold sting meant metal. Handcuffs.

I fought against them, my feet kicking against things I couldn’t identify, my nose burning from the smell of bleach. There was a hand at the side of my face, and my heart skipped, thinking it might be Holden. Then the blindfold came off and I was staring into the angry, hawk-like face of a man who wanted to hurt me. How I knew, I couldn’t say, but I was desperate to get away.

“Trying to escape?” The man laughed, and it sounded like sewage pouring into a river, dirty and unstoppable. “Where are you gonna go? We’re in the middle of the fucking ocean.”

Fear flickered in my chest and I lashed out, kicking wildly with my legs. The man’s hand went to my throat and my vision narrowed. The more I thrashed, the harder he squeezed, but I couldn’t stop myself. I fought with everything in me, even as the breath in my lungs gave out.

“There’s no escape,” the man whispered, bringing a second hand to my throat.

I gasped for air, tried to scream, but there was nothing left.

“No escape,” he repeated, his face sliding in and out of focus. “No escape.”

“Gus! Gus, wake up. You’re having a nightmare.”

I jolted upright, looking around the room wildly, trying to identify where I was. Nothing looked right, nothing was familiar. I didn’t recognize this room, or the blankets around my waist, or anything. I turned with a start and focused on the man sitting on the bed next to me.

Holden. That’s Holden, I told myself. You know him.

He’s Holden, and you’re in his house, and it’s in Birch Bay, Maine, and he’s letting you stay here. He’s Holden, and you’re Gus, and—and—

The words fell apart letter by letter, like someone pulling a loose thread until the whole sentence unraveled. My heart beat wildly, and my breath came in sharp jags. That nightmare. It was too real to be something my brain had dreamt up.

That had really happened to me.

Holden gave me an encouraging smile. “You were screaming in your sleep. A nightmare, I think. But hey, at least now we know your voice works.”

My hand went to my neck, stopping just short of it. I’d been screaming? I forced myself to swallow. I felt like I’d guzzled paint thinner.

I winced at Holden and gritted out one word. “Hurts.”

Holden looked excited, but I shook my head. “Hurts,” I said again, or tried to, but it came out more like, ‘Huhhhs,’ because my throat was so raspy and dry.

His face fell. “Want me to get your notebook?”

I nodded gratefully and tried to ignore how helpless I felt in those few seconds that Holden was away from the bed. It wasn’t till he came back, his warmth and weight a comforting presence as he settled down inches from me, that I started to breathe a little easier.

“What was the nightmare about?” Holden asked, handing me the pen.

I squeezed my eyes shut for a moment, then began to write. I held the notebook out to him when I was done, and watched his eyebrows climb as he read.

“Not a nightmare. A memory. Part of one, anyway. From before I came here.”

“That’s good,” he exclaimed. Then he frowned when he noticed I didn’t share his excitement. “That’s good, isn’t it?”

I pressed my lips together, willing myself not

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