Family Portrait
The nightmare had drawn cries of protest from her throat.
The urgent voice calling her name seemed unreal, distant like foggy memories. Her ears were begging for it to be Jared coaxing her back into consciousness. Somehow, remains of the imaginary world still lingering in her, Ember knew something was wrong with the idea of Jared Levine beside her.
“Ember, it's okay. I'm here,” Aden consoled as Ember's eyelids rose, replacing the images of icy torture with complete blackness. Gasping with her heart in a dead sprint, real tears were draining from her now, mixing with the massive amount of sweat completely confining her.
Ember's head emerged from the pillow and found its place resting on her knees. Her crying did not even begin to cease when she felt comforting arms wrap her in warmth.
Aden didn't have to ask what was going on. He had never seen her react this way to a dream, but he didn't need his degree in psychology to know Jared was usually the cause any time tears stained Ember's face.
“It was just a dream,” Aden said in attempt to soothe her. These words made Ember feel a bit sorry for him because there was nothing he could do but he tried anyway. She would give anything for it to truly be nothing but a dream.
All of his relieving words virtually fell on deaf ears. Nothing seemed to be able to dispel the horrifying visions from Ember. She was too shaken even to speak. She couldn't recall a time in years when she felt this suffocated by misery.
“Ember, please, it's over. Everything's fine,” Aden proclaimed in desperation. He was running out of things to say.
So immensely Ember wanted to cast away her sorrow and anger and every other overpowering emotion that wouldn't drain even with the hundreds of tears that cascaded from her emerald eyes. She wished it were that simple.
When Aden released her from his arms the frozen affliction came spiraling back. Her eyelids became shields as he ignited a dim lamp.
They shot back open in terror when a gasp escaped his lips at the sight of her.
“Oh my God,” Aden whispered in horror. His worried stare fell directly on Ember's neck.
Petrified, Ember's hands crept up her neck. What she found wasn't sweat.
Still in a mortified blur, Aden wrapped Ember's damaged throat in the sheets surrounding them. The tears that had finally begun to dissipate returned to life in a more gentle weep.
Intangible the world still seemed as he swept her into his arms, carrying her wordlessly out of the room.
“You'll be fine, I promise,” he reassured. “I just want to clean you up a little, Em.”
When Ember began to venture toward sleep, she wasn't sure if it was because of the trust she had in Aden or because she just didn't care. Or maybe she had just lost too much blood.
The splash of warm water to her lacerated neck allured her back into reality. Her eyelids fluttered open to be blinded. A rough outline of Aden was visible, haloed by the blazing bathroom light. The feeling of weightlessness still entombed Ember. Ample sorrow and confusion still drifted throughout her entity.
Looking up at Aden attending her wound through disoriented eyes, Ember felt like a foreign species being probed. In his arms that held her from plummeting to the floor, she might have well been locked and chained to a examination table.
