“No . . . ”
“NO . . . ”
“NO!!!!”
A blood-curdling scream brought Mich instantly awake, moments before a flailing arm sent her tumbling from her bed onto the floor.
“Mich! Are you okay?” Nameh said, throwing his covers aside.
“Yeah,” she said breathlessly as he helped her up. She shook her head to clear the last fuzzy wisps of sleep away. Her room was still dark—as she glanced at the clock she could see that sunrise was still several hours away. It took a few moments for things to register in her mind; she looked back up at her loft and gasped. “Nev.”
The head of Mich’s clone household was thrashing wildly, screaming as if he were being disemboweled by a wolverine. The pile of blankets that had been on top of the mattress had been thrown to the floor along with Mich. His sodden sheet had somehow become twisted around his neck, and he struggled with it helplessly, his limbs flailing in random directions as he fought—or tried to fight—off whatever terrifying beast occupied his nightmare. Mich crawled to her feet and returned to her bed, reaching out to stop him before he hurt himself. As soon as she touched him he howled and jerked away as if burned.
“Nev! Easy! It’s me!” She vaulted back up into the loft and straddled his waist, placing a firm hand on his chest to pin him down. He shrieked in terror and whipped his long body from side to side in a frenzied attempt to dislodge her. Mich gritted her teeth and hung on. She tried to grab and unwind the sheet that was choking him, but Nev’s movements were so sharp and violent that Mich could not seize it, and she didn’t dare use her powers for fear of hurting him. She turned; Nameh was standing very still in the darkness, wringing his hands furiously as tears ran down his terrified face.
“Nameh, get my knife!” she commanded. As Nameh ran to fetch it Mich caught Nev’s arms and held them firmly against the mattress. His eyes were still closed but he nevertheless reacted to her, screaming and thrashing from side to side as if attempting to escape.
Escape from what?
“NO! Don’t! No more! Please! PLEASE!” Nev pleaded, trying to pull his arms free from Mich’s iron grip. His dark, wet hair was splayed across his forehead and his normally stoic features were twisted with pain and terror.
Nameh appeared beside her, a small silver object clenched in his white-knuckled hand. “Here’s your knife, Mich.”
Mich took the weapon from the shaking Peter clone and flipped it open, placing her thumb on the back of the blade. Gotta do this without cutting him. She used her forearm to pin Nev’s shoulders to the mattress, holding him still enough so she could remove the sheet. He roared like a wounded animal as she slipped the knife in and cut the fabric away.
“Nev! Nev! Wake up!” Mich shouted, shaking him.
Nev’s eyes fluttered open so wide that even in the dark Mich could clearly see the tracery of red veins along their edges. He was breathing a mile a minute, his bare chest and shoulders gleaming with sweat, a dark red ring around his neck. He moaned low in his throat as the dark corners of the room swam slowly into focus, followed moments later by the image of Mich’s concerned face as she gently cupped his face in her hands.
“M-Mich?” he said, his voice a raspy whisper. He sat up, his cold, sweat-soaked form trembling with a combination of exhaustion and quickly-fleeing terror. “I-I . . . sorry, I . . . ” He trailed off, his gaze growing unfocused and distant. The afterimages were fading quickly, but whatever he’d dreamt—if it was truly a dream—had left behind a yawning chasm of things too horrifying to think about . . .
Nameh and Mich watched in horror as Nev leaned back against the wall and started to do something they NEVER thought he’d do.
Nev started to cry.
