Bloodline [h.s.]

twenty-one.

BRIDGET GALLAGHER

A loud crack of a fist against the headboard woke me up in the middle of the night. I sat up disoriented by the unfamiliar sheets, forgetting that I had slept in Jacob's bed after we made up earlier. He was repeatedly punching the wooden headboard.

"Are you okay?" I said, groggy and confused. He began yelling, but his words were muffled into his pillow. I gently turned him onto his back to stop him from hitting it again. His hand was red and beginning to break skin.

His eyes were still closed as he continued groaning and yelling, clearly in the middle of a nightmare. He was drenched in sweat, saying something about a fire and his brother. I didn't even know he had a brother. I always avoided talking about his family because he couldn't stand discussing what happened.

"Wake up," I shook his shoulder, trying to wake him. He flinched at my touch. My heart ached as his shouting turned to begging for his brother's life. My hands rolled him onto his back to prevent him from hitting his hand again. I wanted so badly to help him escape from his head.

"Please, wake up." I raised my voice. His chest was burning up. Nothing I did woke him up, so I went to get a cold cloth from the bathroom. When I returned, he wasn't there.

"Jacob?" I called. He could not have gone far. I don't know why it occurred to me to look on the balcony, but I am forever glad I did. He was walking down the stairs to the beach, heading towards the water.

Before I could even process what he was doing, my feet sprinted faster than I knew was possible downstairs and outside to follow him. I finally got to him just as he reached the sand. The hissing, autumn wind unsettled my skin, leaving goosebumps along my arms. My hands pressed on his chest as he tried to walk passed me.

"Jacob, stop. Wake up." I begged loudly. He was getting closer to the water. I pushed against him, too weak to make a difference.

He continued murmuring about burning and wanting it too stop. The rambling were just clear enough to make out a few words. His eyes were now wide open and bloodshot, but it was clear he was still asleep. I jumped as his whispers became yelling.

"Let him go! Dad! Let him go!" He was nearly screaming in pure terror.

His arms coiled away from my touch as I tried to console his unconscious mind. I had never even seen him worried, let alone frightened like this. Confusion washed over me as I remembered his family died in an accident. If that was the case, why would someone want to hurt them? Why has never mentioned even having a brother?

He didn't even see me. His feet carried him closer to the water as if I wasn't standing right in front of him. Anxiety climbed up into my throat with each step forward. I wondered if the shock of the water would wake him up. If it didn't, I needed to know how to stop him from walking in deeper.

With my hands still on his torso, I let him walk until his feet hit the water. Despite my own body also feeling the shock of the frigid water, relief let me exhale as his eyes squeezed shut and flew open as he fell to his knees.

He started gasping for air. He looked up at me, looking so lost I wouldn't be surprised if he didn't know my name. I knelt down in front of him, so he could see my face.

"It's me, baby. It's Bridget." He cupped my face in his hands, almost like he was trying to figure out if he was still dreaming.