Dreams

 

ELARA'S POV

I remained seated on the edge of the bed long after waking up, unable to shake the feeling that something wasn't right.

The dream should have faded the moment I opened my eyes.

Instead, it lingered.

Every detail remained painfully clear in my mind, replaying itself over and over again no matter how hard I tried to focus on something on.

I could still hear the rain striking the metal roof. I could still see the dim light reflecting against the wet concrete floor. Most of all, I could still see my father's face.

The fear in his eyes haunted me.

It felt wrong.

My father had never been afraid of anything.

At least, not in the memories I could remember.

He had always been the person who made me feel safe. The person who convinced me that no matter how bad things became, everything would eventually be okay.

Yet the man I had seen in that dream wasn't calm.

As though he knew something terrible was coming and there was nothing he could do to stop it.

A shiver ran through me.

The more I thought about it, the harder it became to dismiss the dream as nothing more than my imagination.

Because dreams weren't supposed to feel this real.

Dreams weren't supposed to leave behind emotions that felt like memories.

Slowly, I rubbed my hands together and stared at the floor.

The strange visions I'd been having since waking up in the hospital immediately came to mind.

At first, I had ignored them.

Then I had convinced myself they were side effects from the trauma.

Every strange feeling that appeared out of nowhere.

None of it felt random anymore.

It felt connected.

Connected to something my mind was desperately trying to remember.

I closed my eyes and leaned back against the headboard.

The image of the warehouse appeared again almost instantly.

The images came and went like fragments of a broken film.

Never long enough for me to understand.

Never clear enough for me to put them together.

It was frustrating.

And somehow, Dante kept finding his way into those fragments.

That was the part that bothered me the most.

I didn't understand it.

Every time another image surfaced, I would catch a glimpse of him.

Sometimes it was only his eyes.

But he was always there.

Watching.

Standing somewhere in the background of memories I couldn't even fully remember.

I opened my eyes and released a shaky breath.

Why?

What connection could Dante possibly have to any of this?

The question settled heavily in my chest.

I wanted answers.

I needed answers.

But every time I got close to one, everything slipped away from me.

I pressed my fingers against my temples and tried to focus.

Maybe if I thought harder.

Maybe if I concentrated enough.

Maybe I could finally remember something.

Anything.

I closed my eyes again.

The warehouse returned.

The rain grew louder.

The fear on my father's face became clearer.

Then suddenly.

Pain exploded inside my head.

A sharp gasp escaped my lips.

It felt like someone had driven a knife straight through my skull.

I grabbed the sides of my head and bent forward.

"Oh God..."

The room began spinning around me.

My breathing turned uneven.

Then the visions returned.

My father's voice.

It was raining heavily, blood filled the ground and Someone screaming.

A gunshot.

A pair of familiar green eyes.

Dante.

I froze.

For a brief second, I saw him clearly.

Standing in the rain.

Looking younger.

As though he was standing in the middle of something important.

The image vanished before I could understand it.

My heart pounded wildly.

"What is happening to me?"

The words came out as a whisper.

The pain only worsened.

Another memory flashed.

Each one hit harder than the last.

My vision blurred.

The room tilted.

I stumbled off the bed and grabbed the dresser for support.

The pressure inside my head became unbearable.

It felt like my mind was fighting itself.

Like memories buried deep inside were clawing their way back to the surface.

Tears burned my eyes.

I couldn't think.

Couldn't breathe.

Couldn't stop the images.

A scream tore from my throat before I could stop it.

The sound echoed throughout the apartment.

I barely registered the footsteps running toward my room.

Barely heard voices outside the door.

The pain had become everything.

The bedroom door burst open.

Dante entered first.

Sofia was right behind him.

The panic on Dante's face caught me off guard.

I had never seen him look like that before.

His eyes immediately found mine.

"Elara."

I tried to answer him.

Tried to tell him about the dream.

About the warehouse.

About my father.

About the visions.

But no words came out.

The room spun violently.

My knees gave out beneath me.

Before I could hit the floor, Dante caught me.

Strong arms wrapped around me.

Holding me steady.

Keeping me from falling.

"Stay with me," he said urgently.

I could hear the fear in his voice.

I tried to focus on him.

Tried to stay awake.

But the darkness was already pulling me under.

The last thing I saw before everything disappeared was Dante looking down at me.

And then the world went black.

The first thing I became aware of was voices.

I couldn't open my eyes.

My body felt heavy.

But I could hear every word.

"What the hell were you thinking?"

Dante's voice cut through the silence like a blade.

I had never heard him sound this angry before.

Sofia didn't answer immediately.

When she finally did, her voice was defensive.

"I didn't know this would happen."

"You didn't know?" Dante snapped. "Are you serious right now?"

The tension in the room became suffocating.

I could practically feel it.

"It was an argument, Dante."

"No."

His voice dropped lower.

"It wasn't just an argument."

A long silence followed.

Then Dante continued.

"You know she hasn't fully recovered."

Every word sounded controlled.

Like he was fighting to keep his temper in check.

"You know what condition she's in.

"You know the doctors specifically said she needed rest."

Sofia sighed heavily.

"She pushed me too."

"That doesn't matter."

The anger in Dante's voice only grew.

"It absolutely matters," Sofia shot back.

"You think I wanted any of this?"

"No," Dante replied coldly. "I think you let your emotions get the better of you."

When Sofia spoke next, her voice was quieter.

"I didn't mean for her to get hurt."

Dante laughed bitterly.

There was no humor in it.

"Intentions don't change what happened."

The words hung heavily in the room.

For several seconds, nobody spoke.

Then Dante's voice softened slightly.

Not because he was calmer.

Because he was worried.

"Look at her, Sofia."

Silence.

"Just look at her."

My chest tightened.

Even without opening my eyes, I could hear the concern in his voice.

The helplessness.

The fear.

And somehow, that frightened me more than the visions.

Because Dante Moretti was not a man who frightened easily.

Yet right now, he sounded terrified of losing me.

And for reasons I couldn't explain, that realization stayed with me even as unconsciousness threatened to pull me under once again.