Dream Eater (m|m)

Chapter 5

Eighty-odd years as a dream-eater has taught me a thing or two about how to handle tense situations. I've woken up in more strange circumstances than I can count, and more than once a client has decided that they've fallen in love with me Misery style, or wanted to add me to their macabre collection. I mean, sometimes there's a reason people are plagued by nightmares, you know.

If I've learned anything from these experiences, it's not to panic.

But when Damien says, 'I can't let you leave,' in that perfect imitation of a serial killer voice, I panic.

I hurl my bundle of sweaty clothes--cash and all--at his face and bolt for the stairwell door.

Predictably, it's locked.

"Alex--stop! I don't want to hurt you! I just want--"

"Then let me go!" I shout, backing away. There must be a fire-escape on the balcony. Maybe I can break a window, or--

"Be careful!"

The apartment has a multi-level floor, with the sitting area sunk down a few steps. I miss one of these in my backward retreat and fall.

My head strikes the edge of something hard--the coffee table, I think--and stars burst over my vision. I touch the back of my head and my hand comes away red. There's a loud ringing in my ears, and Damien is leaning over me, saying something I can't hear.

Then the darkness creeps in, and then the night.

~xxx~

When I open my eyes, my emotions rapidly escalate from mild confusion to terror.

At first, I only register that I'm lying in a comfortable bed and that my head really hurts.

 Then I remember whose bed, and then why I'm in it. Lastly, I realize that I am chained to said bed by a pair of fluffy handcuffs.

Fluffy pink handcuffs.

I should probably stay quiet, but like the guy who gets killed first in the horror movie, I can't help the whimper of fear that escapes me.

Right on cue, the door bursts open and Damien rushes in. He sees me, and something weirdly like pure relief lights his face.

"Oh, thank God you're awake."

I struggle ineffectively against the handcuffs and kick my legs at him.

"Stay the fuck away from me, you psycho!" Because what else does someone say in that situation? So much for not panicking.

"Whoa, whoa! Calm down!" He holds his hands out, fingers spread and eyes wide.

"Calm down!?" My voice is an octave higher than usual and slightly breathless. This body always did have weak lungs.

He takes a step closer and I kick at him again. He catches my ankles deftly and holds them down. I twist against my restraints, but it's no use.

To my shame, tears sting my eyes and my voice breaks.

"Let me go, please!"

"Alex. Alex stop." His voice is calm and quiet. I can't help looking at him. He appears concerned. He doesn't look like a psycho-murderer-rapist. But then they never do, right?

"Please...just listen to me. There's been a misunderstanding. If you just calm down and listen to me, I'll let you go. I promise."

My breath shivers past my throat, but I nod.

He holds my gaze for a moment and then nods slowly in return. He releases my legs and takes a small key from his pocket.

"I only did this because I was afraid you'd hurt yourself again."