Filed to story: Submitting to My Bestie’s Daddy Read Online >>???
Bruises developed along her face, her eyes folding back into black holes as she began to decay in front of my very eyes.
“They killed me, Olive. They killed me because you weren’t there… because you left me.”
“No. Please, no. I didn’t…” I sobbed, even as her skin began to peel away, dropping onto the floor with a slimy flop.
Blood poured down her face like tears as she murmured, “This is all your fault, Olive.”
“No!”
I screamed, ripping my arms from her grip.
I sat up, my eyes opening wide.
I was staring at the bathroom light I had left on. My hand shook as the comforter surrounded me tightly, wrapped around me suffocatingly.
I pulled my arms from the blanket, shaking with a cold sweat as I realized it was all a dream. I had fallen asleep and dreamed about Dahlia–of her coming back and being dead, of her blaming me.
I suppressed another scream in my throat, the image of Dahlia’s black holes of eyes seared into my eyelids.
I scrambled to my feet, still trembling as I made my way out of the door and into the silent hallway. The light under Giovani’s study door was no longer on.
I sniffled, heading straight for his door and knocking firmly. I didn’t care if he was asleep or on the phone. I couldn’t be alone.
Not with my nightmares still haunting me.
*Olivia*
I waited, trembling in the cold hallway, for Giovani to come to the door. I could still feel the after effects of the nightmare as my whole body shivered.
Sweat still clung to my body, freezing against my skin, and I felt like I could collapse at any moment. I wrapped my arms around myself, trying to hold myself together as the silence grew longer and longer.
If I still had the ability, I would’ve been crying, but it seemed my eyes were all dried up at this point.
I took a shaky breath when there wasn’t an answer for what seemed like forever. I raised my hand to knock harder against the wood, the sound echoing down the empty hallway.
Just as I was considering saying fuck it and forcing the door open on my own, I finally heard someone shuffling behind the door.
For a moment, a horrible, irrational sheer terror gripped me.
The memory of my nightmare flashed across my mind–the blame that horrific version of Dahlia had laid on me as she melted away, a corpse, just like I feared.
What if I was still dreaming, and it would only be that horrible version of Dahlia who answered? What if it was she who was waiting on the other side of the door, those soulless eyes staring into me as she shoved blame down my throat?
What if that was reality and everything before this was a dream? Was I even still awake?
I swayed on my feet, clasping a hand around my head just as the door opened. I flinched, spotting a pair of long legs and whirled my eyes to the figure.
Relief filled me instantly as I caught sight of deep brown eyes and a handsome face I knew well.
Giovani stood there, covered in his silky robe. He looked surprised to see me, and I didn’t blame him.
“Olivia?” he asked and I nearly collapsed into his arms right then and there.
“Can I please sleep with you?” I begged, my voice hoarse and barely above a whisper.
I saw his eyes flicker up and down my form, a look of concern crossing his features before he nodded, opening the door as he stepped aside.
“Of course,” he said softly.
I breathed a shaky sigh of relief, stepping into his room. My knees were still trembling, but I refused to collapse. I heard the door close behind me, and I almost wanted to tell him to lock it to keep the nightmares at bay.
But you couldn’t escape nightmares with a lock.
There was a light touch on my back, and I jumped, whirling onto Giovani with wide, frightened eyes.
“Whoa.” He held his hands above him in defense, his eyes turning from concern to downright worry. “What happened?”
I glanced at my feet, one of my socks missing and the other barely hanging on. The image of my nightmare flashed, the blood and rot of Dahlia pressing down on me, and I winced.
But how would I describe that? How would I get my feelings out of my throat without sounding like a petulant child?
“I had a nightmare,” I said simply.
Giovani sighed, moving around me as I shuffled on my one bare foot and one socked one.
“Here, take a seat,” Giovani pulled out one of the two chairs laying around the room.
“Sure,” I mumbled, following him and taking the seat he’d offered.
I stared down at my hands as I heard him moving around, the sound of glasses clinking together. Finally, he handed me a glass with a warm amber liquid inside of it.
I didn’t even try to guess what he offered, I just took the drink. It was cold around my already freezing fingers, but I didn’t care.
Giovani sighed as he took his seat across from me, the same kind of glass in his hand. I lifted the glass to my lips, taking a sip. It was very smooth but had a very unpleasant aftertaste.
It was alcohol though, so I poured the rest of the drink right down my throat. It burned as it went down and I coughed deeply.
“Careful,” Giovani said cautiously, and he pried the empty glass from my hand.
There was silence between us, both of us having nothing to say as I watched him head to the cabinet full of alcohol to refill my glass.
He handed it to me cautiously, and I grabbed it, though I didn’t want to drink another drop at the moment.
I glanced down at my hands, my fingernails digging into the skin and picking at it. A bigger hand grabbed my own, surrounding my fingers in warmth as he entwined his own with mine.
I glanced up at Giovani, and he stared down at our hands very seriously.
“It’s not your fault, you know,” he said quietly.
I swallowed uncomfortably, not believing a single word of it.
“Does her family know?” I asked quietly. “Her parents and brothers?”
“Yes,” Giovani sighed heavily. “Her brothers are on their way already.”
