Damon tossed and turned in his sleep. He was having a nightmare. He'd been having a lot of them lately. He didn't know what they meant or even remember what had happened when he woke up. He just always woke with a pounding heart and sweaty brow, the nightmare nipping at the edge of his awareness, teasing him.
Tonight was the worst yet.
His small body twisted back and forth in the sheets. Sweat soaked through his race car pajamas and plastered his fair hair to his forehead. His eyes moved frantically under his closed lids.
Suddenly he jerked awake, a scream stuck in his throat. He swallowed it down. He felt his eyes begin to well with tears and he wiped his sleeve across his face. He let out a few sniffles before he turned to check the clock.
It was 12:00pm on June 24th.
His blood ran cold. He had to get to Scarlett. Something was wrong, something was very wrong.
He dragged his sleeve across his face again, and scrambled out of bed. He had his hand on the door knob but something made him pause. He quickly shed his pajamas and threw on a pair of dirty jeans and a long sleeved black shirt. He stuffed his feet hurriedly into a pair of sneakers and crept as quietly as he could into his sister's room across the hall.
He knew it would be empty even before he opened the door, but he still felt his heart clench. He often came into Scarlett's room when he woke up crying in the middle of the night. She would pull him into her small bed and hold him while he sobbed against her shoulder. She would stroke his hair and tell him that it was okay, that it was just a dream. In his heart, he knew that they were more than that, but it still made him feel better. She would hold him until he stopped shaking. Then she would fall asleep, her arms still encircling him.
Damon would stay there, listening to her steady breathing, comforted by her presence until he heard birds begin to chirp or until light began to filter in through her lace curtains. Then he would quietly slip from her loose embrace and sneak back to his room. He would pretend to be asleep until he heard his mom or dad bustling in the kitchen, and sometimes until he heard his parents leave for work.
Scarlett would never laugh at him, or tell him that he was over reacting. She would always be extra gentle on the days following his nightmares. Sometimes she would make his favorite breakfast and sometimes she'd give him an extra hug before he left for the bus stop. And she would never tell their parents. She knew what would happen.
Damon loved Scarlett more than he loved anyone else in the world. More than his absent mother, or his drunken father who had a tendency to take things out with his fists. Damon still loved them, he was too young to understand hatred, but it was nothing compared to how he loved Scarlett. He loved her more than he loved his best friend Matt or even the pretty girl in his class named Vanessa who would sometimes share her snacks with Damon when Mommy forgot to pack him one.
Damon looked around Scarlett's room, his fear escalating. Her pajamas were in a crumpled pile in front of her closet. Her bed was messy and unmade. A small pile of books was stacked precariously on her bedside table. One had a tasseled bookmark protruding from the pages.
Damon let his shoulders slump in disappointment. He was too late; too late to stop what was going to happen to Scarlett. He was about to return to his room when her lacey curtains caught his eye. They were moving. The window was open.
Damon peered out the open window and nearly wept with relief. Scarlett was there. In the backyard. She was with someone else, but she was okay.
Damon quickly clambered through the window, banging his knee on the sill. His sneakers kicked up a small puff of dust as he landed. He stared after Scarlett.
She was lounging against the large oak tree that dominated their back yard. There was someone else with her – a boy. Yes, Damon was sure it was a boy. Damon couldn't see his face, but the stranger gave him an uneasy feeling.
The stranger's arms were around Scarlett. Damon could now tell that his legs were spread and Scarlett was sitting between them, her back against the stranger's chest. Her head rested against his shoulder, and her face was turned up towards his. She couldn't see Damon; she was facing away from him.
She was saying something to the stranger. The stranger smiled and leaned towards her face, and all the sudden they were doing that thing that Mommy and Daddy did sometimes, when Daddy called Mommy pretty. Damon remembered that it was called kissing. He resisted the childish urge to wrinkle his nose and making an exaggerated gagging sound.
It was 12:07 pm on June 24th.
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