54. Tessa

54

Tessa

A crid sweat, musk, and liquor, all sweetened by the aroma of cigar smoke.

Cigar smoke reminds me of my father's study. When I was small, my dad would let me sit in there while he worked and Mama was busy. He'd give me a scribble pad and some pens or let me play with my dolls if I promised to be quiet.

Sometimes my Uncle Dante came in to talk while smoking one of his expensive Cuban cigars.

I didn't like Uncle Dante. Even though I was young, I sensed there was something not right with him. He smiled like a normal person, but the smile never quite reached his eyes.

Mama was afraid of him. She'd always make sure I wasn't around when he visited, but sometimes she'd have to go out and leave me with Dad. If she smelled cigar smoke on me, she'd get upset and she and Dad would argue.

When that happened, I'd hide in my room and pull the covers over my head. I hated it when Dad and Mama argued.

Voices murmur above the thump of music.

My body feels heavy. Trying to move is like fighting through molasses. Nothing works.

Am I dreaming? Is this one of those weird lucid dreams where I'm not quite awake?

I've had those before.

This doesn't feel quite the same. It's not my bedroom. Whatever I'm lying on is too hard, too smooth. Not at all like my soft, slightly lumpy mattress.

It's also hot in here. Much too hot.

The combination of heat and strange odors turns my stomach. For a horrible moment, I feel like I'm going to be sick, and then the sensation of fingers brushing across my body distracts me.

Where the fuck am I? I remember being in the club with Enzo. He kept offering me drinks, telling me to lighten up and have fucking fun. He seemed to take it personally that I wasn't enjoying his surprise birthday meal and drinks at the club.

I had tried to be grateful he'd sprung for a babysitter and paid for dinner, but it was all a bit too last-minute for me. And I was tired. Way too tired to be up past 10 PM.

Someone touches my thighs and I try to pull away, but I can't move. The touch feels intentional, lascivious, rather than purely practical, which scares me.

I want to protest about being touched when I can't possibly consent to it, but my mouth refuses to cooperate with my brain. My eyelids flicker and when I force them open a crack, I can see shades of red and black.

Flickering lights.

Hooded men.

"She's waking up."

There's a sharp sting in my neck and then darkness envelops me.

"Tessa! Wake up!"

Cin's voice pulls me out of the dream and for a moment, I have no clue where I am. The window is in the wrong place. The light is different. And I can hear the low hum of an air-con unit.

The house in the forest smelled of pine and wood smoke. This room smells more of cleaning products. I rub my face and my cheeks are wet. Have I been crying?

"Cin?"

"Shh, it's OK, I'm here. It was a bad dream. You're safe." He wraps me up in his arms and he's right, I do feel safe.

"Is it morning?"

"No. Still really early. You can go back to sleep for a bit."

I try, but it's useless. While I can't remember much of the dream, the sensation of being paralyzed refuses to go away.

Cin falls back to sleep and rolls on to his back, the sheet tangled around his waist. He really is beautiful. I'm tempted to take a photo for my personal album but it feels too invasive. If he took photos of me while I was asleep, I'd be pissed.

The room lightens as the sun rises, and it isn't long before I hear Harry's footsteps running past my bedroom door. Before I can get up, he opens the door and dives onto the bed with a yell.

"Cin!" To his credit, Cin laughs it off while Harry giggles. "Why are you sleeping in Mommy's bed?" he asks eventually. "Are you my new daddy?" The hopeful expression on his face breaks my heart. I suppose I should have seen this coming. Dammit.

"Mommy had a bad dream. She was scared so I came in to make her feel better." He manages to say this with a straight face.

"I get bad dreams too. I get scared when the bad man in my dreams chases me."

"Nobody's going to hurt you, Harry," Cin says earnestly. "I'll kill all the bad men."

Harry's eyes widen. "Like superheroes kill the baddies?"

"Yeah. I'm your mommy's superhero."

"Do you wear a cape?"

Oh my god, this conversation is ridiculous. I reach down and pull Cin's discarded tee on before crawling out of bed.

"No, he doesn't! Harry, go get dressed while I check on Chloe."

He runs out, superheroes and capes forgotten.

"So you're my superhero, huh?" I say and Cin snorts with laughter.

"Always."