Blade

12-The Instruction

I screamed my way into consciousness, crazed beyond redemption. I threw the covers aside, staring down in panic at my legs. There were no whip marks, no blood… But it had felt so real.

I trembled as my breath continued to come in panicked rasps.

Aw… And that was only the exposition…

My heart pounded even faster as Andrew's voice invaded my thoughts. How? How did he remember the dream? Or hadn't it been a dream?

I fisted the collar of my silk nightdress, trying to ease the burning in my chest. I couldn't breathe properly anymore.

I crawled out of bed in a semi-conscious state. Andrew's face  overlapped with that of my surroundings, doubling my vision.

He was laughing hard and loud, so much that I couldn't hear my own thoughts… Though I was pretty sure thinking was far from me at this point.

I made it to the drawer. Andrew laughed harder as I pulled open the compartment.

“No," I sobbed in panic as I recalled the events of yesterday. My pills were gone! “No." Tears rolled down my face with more intensity, more volume…

It's just you and me now, little Elsa. Andrew's voice taunted. And as your elder brother, you have to listen to everything I say… Even if you're asked to jump off a cliff. He laughed at that. And if you disobey… Well, my exposition must have explained what will happen…

I held my hands against both sides of my head. Andrew's voice induced a headache so intense that my eyes watered. I groaned.

“No," I repeated. It was the only word I could come up with as my tears kept coming non-stop. “Andrew please"

Please?! Do you really think that you deserve any pity?!

I pressed my hands tighter. The pain was intense, excruciating…

“Stop!" I screamed in agony. The door to my room burst open. I was curled up on the floor, sobbing profusely in response to the unbearable pain in my head. My hands had lost feeling with how hard I was straining them, but yet, it didn't help reduce the pain. “Please…” I pleaded. " Please stop…"

I felt arms wrap around me, holding me close against a broad chest. He smelled of cinnamon, most likely a remnant from his baking yesterday.

“Rachel. Baby," dad soothed, rocking me back and forth as he enveloped me in his bulk.

I think my exposition conveyed the message quite clearly. Now to my instruction…
He paused.
Stay away from Frederick Lawson…
And he went silent.

I was in so much pain that Andrew's words barely registered. I gripped dad’s shirt with both fists like my life depended on it, sobbing uncontrollably.

The pain began to dull ever so slowly…

“Dad," I said, reaching for anything concrete.

“I’m here, baby."

His baritone voice rumbled through his chest, vibrating so that I felt it due to my close proximity. He was real. And he was here, holding me, comforting me. I could feel him…

But then Andrew's whip felt so real too. Where was the guarantee that it wasn't? As if the memory was a trigger, tendrils of what was most likely static electricity passed across the exact spots where Andrew had whipped me.

I yelped.

“It's okay,Rachel," dad soothed, holding me tighter. "It's okay…"

I wasn't sure how long we remained like that, dad humming one of my favorite tunes from childhood. My intense sobbing reduced to sniffs, until it was just complete silence.