Devoted To You || Gilbert Blythe

XXV

~𝒜𝒹𝒶~
Nightmare. A noun. Meaning, a terrifying dream in which the dreamer experiences feelings of helplessness, extreme anxiety, sorrow, etc.
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I gasp for air as I fly up out of Gilbert's bed. The room is filled with an oppressive tension, and my heart races with each second. I look around for any sign of forced entry. The dresser is back in its original spot, I lean over to find that the drawers are indeed full of trinkets.  The bed is still covered in Gilbert's letters.

Relief washes over me as I take in the familiar surroundings of the room. The anxious feeling continues to course through my veins through. The haunting echoes of Nate's laughter fade away, replaced by the soft hum of the night. My hands shake as I touch the dresser, confirming its solidity. It was all a dream, a vivid nightmare that felt too real.

I run my fingers through my disheveled hair, trying to ground myself in reality. The moonlight spills through the window, casting a calming glow on the room. Slowly, I rise from the bed and approach the mirror, searching for any lingering traces of fear in my eyes.

As I meet my own gaze, the truth sinks in – it was just a dream. Gilbert's room was empty, and I was alone. The weight on my chest begins to lift, and I take a deep breath, savoring the reassurance that the nightmare was not real. Yet, the haunting whispers of his voice linger in my mind.

"I definitely need a dog or something." I whisper to myself.

The floorboards creak loudly from outside, causing my heart to leap into my throat once more.

"You can't hide forever, Ada Faye." Nate's voice creeps into my mind once more. Panic grips me once again as the nightmare's tendrils refuse to fully release their hold. I glance around the room, my eyes searching for a makeshift weapon, a desperate attempt to protect myself from an unseen threat.

My fingers close around a heavy book and a candlestick on the nightstand, and I hold them tightly, ready to defend. I make my way into the kitchen, not looking away from the door once. I sit down the heavy book, find the drawer with the knives and grab the first one I feel. I won't go down without a fight. The sound of the front door opening intensifies the tension in the room, and I stand poised, adrenaline coursing through my veins. The knife feels both comforting and inadequate in my trembling hands.

As the door swings open, I quickly yell. "Don't come any closer!" I throw the candlestick towards the door, hitting Nate in the head.

I hear him hiss in pain before slowly standing back up. He reaches into his pocket and pulls out something. The tiniest light flickers, a flame and lights the candle. I can't see much through my blurred vision.

It must be another trick. He takes a step closer, I take a step back and trip backwards, falling on my bum. Gosh I'm very clumsy. I hold out the knife as my heart pounds in my chest. "I said don't come any closer!" I shriek.

"Ada?"

The revelation hits me like a sudden storm, and my grip on the knife falters. The knife drops from my grasp, clattering to the floor, as I release the breath I didn't realize I was holding. Confusion and vulnerability linger in my eyes as I try to compose myself, the lines between dream and reality still blurred in the aftermath of the vivid nightmare. Staring wide-eyed at Gilbert, the lines between nightmare and reality blur once again. The candlelight dances on his concerned face, replacing the sinister image I had painted in my mind. He places it in an empty holder before sitting by me on the floor.

"I... I thought..." I stammer, the adrenaline-fueled panic still coursing through my veins. Gilbert reaches out, concern etched on his features. I yank him towards me to make sure this is truly real.