ChapterThree
Nothing good ever lasts. That much I know to betrue. I was a fool to think Henry’s night terrors would end justbecause he’d agreed to open up to me. I awoke to the violentjostling of the bed and opened my eyes to find him tossing andturning, muttering incoherently. The cool, pale glow of the moonshone in through the window and cast a ghostly silver sheet overthe room, highlighting his twisted expression in a frighteningway.
“Henry,”I whispered and gently pushed against his shoulder. But it onlyseemed to set fire to his nightmare. “Henry, it’s okay. Wakeup.”
Like a lightswitch being flicked on, he bolted upright in a feverish panic, butI knew he was still asleep. The nightmare radiated from his body,the tense and fearful emotions hovering like a dark aura around hisframe.
Shakily, Ireached out to touch him. His skin drenched in sweat. “Hen–”
“Don’ttouch me!” he shouted and clawed at his chest.
He could barelycatch his breath and it killed me to watch the scene play outbefore me. The man I loved, trapped in a horrific nightmare. But itwas a reality to him. He lived whatever was going on in that mindof his. I pulled the covers all the way down and brought myself upon my knees to hold his face in my hands in an attempt to at leastcalm him.
That was amistake.
Henry let out afierce and guttural scream as his massive hands grabbed my arms,shaking viciously. “I said don’t touch me, you witch!”
I couldn’t helpbut succumb to his blind strength as he pushed me down onto thebed, holding me in place with his desperate grip.
“Henry,please!”
Hegrowled in anger and pushed down harder, the force on my bonesalmost too much to stand. My blood ran cold as his face dipped tomine and his mouth pressed against my ear. “I told you I’d cut yourhead off if you ever laid a hand on me again,” his words were lacedwith malice as they spit against my face, “Perhaps I should startwith your hands then. Teach you to live without your instruments oftorture.” His cold words disturbed me, and I wiggled in his grasp.“The world would be a better place without Maria Cobham.”
My veins turnedto ice. I remained in place as my eyes widened in stone cold fear.He thought I was Maria. I began to hyperventilate but I would notbend. I would not let this man crack me. He was the one broken andI’d vowed to fix it. But his unexpected words opened up a whole newworld of pain. It confirmed some of my worries and I hadn’t thefaintest idea how to feel about it.
With a gustykick, I pushed Henry from my body and he fell to the floor next tothe bed with a loud thud. But, still, he would not wake. He jumpedto his feet with a roar and I could see the milky flutter of hissleeping eyes. Panic coursed through my cold veins as I witnessedhim pull his sword from its sheath that hung next to where weslept, and I flew from the bed. He never swung, just held it outand kept retreating further and further away from me.
“Henry,please, my God,” I begged with my hands out in a show of surrender.“Wake up! You’re having a nightmare.”
The man didn’trespond, just continued to back away into a corner filled with hisown grunts and wails.
I took achance and stepped forward, hand outstretched for him. Palmupturned. “Take my hand. It’s okay. It’s me, Dianna.”
The soundof my name ignited the rage-fire again and Henry’s sword lifted ashe moved swiftly in my direction. “How dare you speak her name!” Heswung wildly and blindly as I scrambled backward, searching for my own sword. “Ishould cut the black tongue right from the gaping hole in yourface.”
Hecontinued to advance, the blade just inches from my face with every slicethrough the air. Half the room was cast in moonlight, the other drowned in darkness.I fell to the floor as I dodged another swipe and crawled into theshadows, out of sight. My sword was there somewhere.
Desperate andfull of panic, I felt around until the familiar etchings of thehilt brushed against my fingertips. I could hear Henry’s clunkyfootsteps just inches away. I sprung to my feet just as the man Iloved was about to take another swing at me and brought my blade upto meet his.
The sound ofmetal on metal pierced through the air and I could see how thesensation rang through Henry’s body. He was resurfacing, comingcloser to reality and climbing out of the horrid nightmare thatplayed in his mind.
His arm movedagain, lifting his sword and swinging it back down toward me. Iadvanced. My blade met his again. And again. And again. We dancedback and forth in the moonlight, metal clashing, and me pleadingfor the man before me to wake up. I was good with my weapon, but Ididn’t know how long I could keep it up.
“Henry,sweetheart,” I spoke loudly as I spun to dodge his swipe. “Wake up,God damn it!”
More groans andincoherent mumbling from him as his weapon cut through the airbetween us.
I was gettingtired, but so was he. I could tell as much from the simple way hebegan to lag. His movements sluggish. In a fit of tears and cries,he took one more swing at me, but I was too slow. The tip of hisblade caught my shift and tore a hole across the center, justmissing the surface of my skin by hairs.
That was thelast straw.
Angry, Iferociously advanced, forcing him into a corner where I could unarmthe pirate and bring him to his senses. Clank, clank, clank, our cold metal met until he could retreatno further. With one hand I grabbed his wrist. The other held thelength of my weapon across his chest as I pushed him up against thewall. His grip aroundthe hilt let go and his sword fell to the floor at our
