Send me a ship and a number.
Number 17: âHold me. Just for a bit, okay? I just⌠I need someone to hold me.â Sorry this turned angsty. Hope thatâs okay!
âWhere were you, Kole?â
The pink-haired women in question looked around her bedroom, frantically searching for the source of that voice.
âWhere were you, Kole?â
The voice called out again, accusation and sadness dripping with each word. As jerked her head around, she noticed that this room was not actually hers. At least, it hasnât been hers in years.
âWhere were you, Kole?â
The geomancer spun around and this time was met with the familiar face of a man she had lost so long ago. He looked so real, with his tanned skin, curly-golden hair, and big blue eyes. She was tempted to reach out and stroke the back of her delicate hand over his rose-colored cheek, but she knew better. It was the look in his eyes, or lack thereof. They were emotionless, void pools of nothingness. This man was not her died lover, for that man would only ever look at her with love.
âWhere were you, Kole?â
When he spoke, his voice felt cruel and bitter, another sign that this was not the man she once cared about.
âWhat-what are you talking about Jericho? What are you doing here?â Her voice quivered as she spoke and she took tentative step closer to the ghost.
âWhere were you, Kole?â He repeated. âWhere were you when I needed you?â
Kole felt her body shake and hot tears gather in her crystal eyes. She took another step.
âYou-you needed me?â Her voice broke into a whisper.
âI needed you. He captured me. Tortured me. Murdered me. Where were you, Kole? Where were you?â
Kole let out a loud sob and a pathetic whimper. âI-I donât know.â She shook her head and lounged herself at him. âIâm so sorry, Jericho! Iâm so sorry!â
The girl cried and fell right through the image of the man. The ghost dissipated as she crash through it, and the women fell to the floor with a thud. The room began to spin and she didnât bother standing back up. Instead she laid there on the carpet, head in her hands as she openly cried to herself.
Her loud sobbing kept her from hearing her name being called.
âIâm sorry! Iâm sorry!â She screamed in between her sobs.
The blue-eyed women jumped up out of the bed and heard a loud thud, followed by a throbbing sensation on her forehead.
âShit!â She heard the deep and aggravated voice of her husband curse beside her. She turned to look at him, her hand cradling her forehead, and saw he was doing the same thing. It just dawned on her that they must have bumped heads.
She wanted to scold him for cursing like that, but she was far too shaken up to think clearly at the moment. Instead, she turned away from him and pulled her knees up to her chin, resting her head there. Though it had all just been a nightmare, a horrid, vivid nightmare, she must have been crying in real life, because she still had stale tears run down her tear-stained face. She felt the bed shift as the man beside her scooted closer to her. He didnât touch her, but observed her for a moment. His chocolate-brown eyes staring intently at her, as if she were a wild animal that could run at anytime.
When it became clear she wasnât going to start a conversation, he took it upon himself to begin the interrogation.
âSoâŚâ Drake began. âDo you want to talk about it?â
She didnât look at him. Instead, she simply stared off into the darkness of their bedroom. âNo.â She replied hoarsely.
He nodded his head in understanding. Of course, he was dying to know what her dream had been about to make her cry so much, but he knew better than to pry. After all, he had his fair share of secrets too. On the other hand, this was the women he loved. The mother of his child. The only person he cared more about was their daughter. There was no way he could just sit there while she looked soâŚtroubled. So, he did the only thing he could do to comfort her. Slowly, as not to startle her, he stretched out his arms, wrapping each around her waist, and pulling her close. Her lack of fidgeting acted as silent permission, and he tightened his grip around her, forcing her to move so that she was practically sitting in his lap.
She rested her head on his bare chest, soaking in the warmth that his body naturally emitted. He placed a tender kiss on top of her silky pink strands, then buried his face into her messy bed-head. Gently, he rocked her in his arms, both of them quietly listening to the sound of their breathing and heartbeats.
âAre you sure there isnât anything else I can do to help?â He asked her, though his words were muffled by her hair.
âHold me. Just for a bit, okay? I just⌠I need someone to hold me.â She whispered back to him, burying her face deeper in his embrace. He happily obeyed, and the two spent the rest of the night lost in each otherâs arms.