Savannah opened her eyes and stretched languidly under her weighted comforter. The sun pierced through the slightly parted curtains and left a thick haze over her sleepy mind. Rolling over to her alarm clock, she was abruptly stopped by the shocking sight of the strange man lying beside her. He rested atop her blankets, trapping her under their encumbrance, with a lazy arm thrown across his eyes. Signs of stubble were appearing on his rigid chin, his russet hair grown out to his shoulders in tight curls. Long legs and thick muscular arms took up the majority of the space on the small twin bed, and Savannah suddenly felt cramped in her tiny place beside him.
Tentatively, she reached out one pianist finger to poke him in the shoulder. After a moment of stillness, she repeated the action. The big bulk beside her started shaking gently with amused laughter, and unexpectedly rolled over, tucking her tiny body under his much larger one. She squealed in mock fear and giggled loudly underneath his heavy weight, squirming in a false attempt to throw him off. His laughter became louder until it seemed to fill every crack and crevice in the room. Suddenly, his hands were upon her. Strong hands with long fingers, gripping her ribcage and causing her to go breathless with giggles. His hands ventured lower, thumbs pressing to the crease where her legs met with the triangle nestled between her thighs. Savannah squealed and bucked beneath him, forcing them both to fall off the bed, landing unceremoniously on the floor in a tangle of blankets and limbs.
"Savvy," he gasps between snorts. "You really need to get that looked at. It's unnatural to be so damned ticklish." Savannah cannot respond to his teasing, and she tries to gulp air in to her lungs. After a while their laughter dies down, and they lie together in complete silence. Savannah marvels at the peace she feels, lying with this man and just being perfectly still. He has always been the closest thing to family for Savannah, as she never knew her parents. Her foster mom was absolutely horrific, the type who adopted seven children so that the state would send her money for her tequila Fridays. Mrs. Ashford was always raving on about demons and night walkers, telling stories with such vivid details that Savannah spent many nights awake with terror. Last night was no different, her mind replaying the things it conjured up during Ashford's drunken stupor. Flashes of dark creatures with twisted limbs creep into her mind, and Savannah shakes her head in an attempt to clear it. It's unfair that even now, when she is safe and content in his arms, she still lives in fear of the monsters under the bed.
"Thank you for staying with me last night. I know you must be getting tired of me by now." Savannah whispers in to his shoulder, hiding her face in shame. She feels his lips on her head, laying a kiss in her tangle of flaxen hair.
"I will never tire of you, don't be so derisible. You know I love you sprog." He squeezes her in his arms to hold her closer, as if chasing away her thoughts. Savannah hates it when he calls her sprog, a nickname she acquired for being the youngest of the seven children. Ten years later and he still calls her the kid. It annoys her, but at the same time makes her feel happy, due to the familiarity of it. Perhaps she will miss it once he's gone.
"Chase, what do you think happiness feels like?"
For a long time he does not answer. Then he rolls them over on the floor and tucks her into the fold of his body, sheltering her from the crisp morning air. He squeezes again, keeping silent all the while. Finally, as Savannah begins to drift off to sleep once more, he whispers in her ear. "I think it feels like this."
"Then why are you so eager to leave me?" She says the words before she can stop them, and immediately wishes that she had the power to take them back. It is unfair of her to wish this hell on him, selfish of her to ask him to stay. But that is what she has just done.
"I'm not leaving you, Savvy. I'll be waiting, and as soon as you're eighteen, I'll come back for you. I promise." He nuzzles the curvature of her neck, breathing her her familiar scent and marvelling at the smoothness of her skin. "I won't ever leave you," he swears. "Don't you trust me?" He can feel her tense in his arms, but he will never understand her aversion to trusting people. And not just people, but him.
The nightmares have taken over her life now, real blending with the make believe in her waking hours, and trust isn't an emotion she readily feels. Especially not for Chase, not after what her mind's eye has seen. But how could she tell him that? After all, he has only ever showed kindness to her. How could she explain her fear towards him, when it doesn't even make sense to herself?
"I trust you," she lies, the words singing her tongue on the way out. "I won't leave you either." Savannah says this as an afterthought, not really understanding why it felt so important to say.
Chase laughs. "Course you won't." But there is something in his voice, something that wasn't there before. However, before Savannah can ask him about it, there is a loud bang right outside the door, followed shortly by Mrs. Ashford's wailing. Suddenly, the door swings open with such force it nearly comes off its hinges.
"Jasný zachránce!" She bursts in to the room, blood caking her face and hair, fingernails covered in grime. "Run!" She grabs Savannah by her tangled hair and lifts her from the floor, ignoring her thrashing in pain. "Musí běžet, zůstaňte v bezpečí!" Savannah can see Chase rising from the floor, anger and panic evident in his eyes. She herself does not feel angry, or even afraid. She is only confused. Mrs. Ashford rambling in an unknown language is nothing new to the foster children, even physical violence is a common occurrence, especially for Savannah, who often encouraged the old drunks wrath. But where has all this blood come from?
Mrs. Ashford has taken Savannah to the window now, and throws her against it. "Stupid girl," she spits. "Run!" Savannah blindly turns to the window and pushes it open, she lifts herself on to the sill and begin to wiggle through. She is almost completely out when a loud crash causes her to look back. Mrs. Ashford lies on the ground, her mouth opened impossibly wide in a soundless scream, blood flowing past her lips. She is dead. Savannah has never seen someone die before. She looks up to see Chase struggling with a man dressed all in black. No, not a man, a creature. With skin so dark it looks like the ocean water at night, and silver tattoos like the moonlight reflecting off the surface. "Přestaň!" He shouts. His teeth resemble those of a sharks, long and pointed, stained yellow and red. As if her commanded them, a half dozen more creatures run past him in to the room, headed straight for Savannah. Chase screams and tackled the shouting man to the floor, bringing his knee down on the creatures snarling face with impressive force. Someone hits him in the head from behind, and Chase falls to the floor. The creature springs upon him, sinking his teeth in to Chase's shoulder with a sickening sound.
