It was just a dream. drowning and looking into James's cold icy stare. Wake up!

I jolted upright in bed, gasping for air as if I had just risen from the bottom of a pool's deep end. My heart pounded against my chest; every thump reminded me of the horror I'd just fled from. I sat up in bed; the sheets were tangled around my legs, wet with sweat. My room was dark around me, but it wasn't as suffocating as the water that had closed over my head in my dream.

Or had it been a nightmare?

I shivered again, this time rubbing down my arms to rid them of the residual cold. I still felt the frigid water swallowing me, tugging me under no matter how hard I kicked, no matter how desperately I tried to reach the surface. But the worst of it wasn't the drowning. It was the look in his eyes—James, my stepfather. Those eyes of his that were usually ice-cold and calculating were empty as he pushed me deeper into the water, watching me struggle, watching me—

"It was only a dream," I told my reflection, but the moment I spoke the words, I didn't believe them. It had felt too real. The kind of real that leaves an impression, a stain on your mind that you can't scrub out no matter how hard you try.

I turned to my nightstand and looked at my clock: 6:15 AM. Too early to rise, but already I knew there was no way I could fall back asleep. Not after that. I threw off the covers and trudged into the bathroom to splash some cold water on my face—to do anything to shake the memory of that dream.

The girl staring back at me in the mirror was barely recognizable. My skin was so pale, there were dark circles under my eyes, and my hair was a tangled mess. I looked just as wrecked as I felt.

I couldn't let this get to me. It was only a dream. That's what I kept telling myself as I got dressed, pulling on my school uniform like armor. If only I could get through the day, maybe I could forget about the dream, push it to the back of my mind where it couldn't hurt me.

Yet, while mechanical things—brushing my hair, tying my shoes, slinging my backpack over my shoulder—the fear just would not leave me be. It clung to my skin like a second layer, invisible but suffocating. James had, of course, never hurt me physically, but there was something in him, dark and sinister, that made my instincts uneasy. Now, after that dream, it was worse.

When I got to school, I was totally spaced out. There was the same sort of morning chatter in the hall—people laughing and gossipy, hollering across the hall—but it was quite far away to me; again, it felt like I was underwater, and everything was kind of muffled.

"Emma!"

The sharp voice cut through the fog in my head. I opened my eyes to find Noah right in front of me, his brow furrowed and a hint of concern in those blue eyes. "Are you okay? You look like you've seen a ghost."

I opened my mouth to say something, anything, and the words just seemed to lodge there in my throat. I could feel those tears welling up in my eyes, stinging hot, and the next thing I knew, they were spilling over, running down my cheeks faster than I could wipe them away.

"Hey, it's okay," Noah said softly, pulling me into a hug. His arms were strong, warm, and comforting, all wrapped around me. I just sank into him, burying my face in his shoulder. "You're safe, Emma. I'm here."

That did it. The tears came harder, and I couldn't stop them, couldn't find the strength to keep it together right there in the middle of the hallway. I didn't care who was watching. All I cared about was holding onto Noah like he was the only thing keeping me from drowning again.

Noah didn't say anything else, just held me until I started to feel a bit better, until the sobs started to turn to hiccups, the tears beginning to slow into a trickle. "Come on," he said finally, voice gentle. "Let's go to our spot. We can talk there.

I nodded, not trusting myself to speak. He let me take his hand, and he led me away from the noise and many people out into the open behind the school, to that old oak tree. This one spot was special to us, the only place we could come to be free from everything. Thick branches spread out from the top of the tree, casting shadows—the feeling of safety I so needed.

We sat on the grass and let our backs rest against the rough bark. Neither of us spoke for a long time. Noah simply sat beside me, his presence perhaps a little stifling, yet it somehow held me down to the ground.

"Do you want to tell me what's going on?" he asked at last. His voice was soft, patient, like he knew I needed time to find the right words.

So I inhaled deeply, looking down at my hands as I struggled to verbalize the nightmare. "I—I had a dream," I began, barely loud enough for me to hear. "About James. My stepdad. He—he pushed me into a lake. I couldn't get out. I was drowning, and he just stood there, watching me. He was watching me—like he wanted me to drown.

Noah didn't say anything for a while. It created a tightness in my chest that wouldn't go away until I looked finally up at him; his eyes were really dark and serious. "That sounds awful, Emma, but you do know that was just a dream, right? He wouldn't actually do something like that."

"I know," I said, but it was a hollow feeling when the words came out. "But it felt so real, Noah. And the way he looked at me… I don't know. It just felt like there was some truth to it."

Noah's frown had deepened for a moment, and he had reached over, placing a hand over mine. "Emma, if at any point you feel unsafe, or if anything does happen, you need to tell them. Tell me, a teacher, or anyone you trust. You're not in this alone.

His words were sincere, filled with concern, and that made the knot in my chest loosen just a little. Filled with gratefulness toward him for caring this much, I squeezed his hand. "Thank you, Noah. I don't know what I'd do without you.

"We'll never have to find out," he said, a small smile, but there was something of the profound in his eyes, something I could not quite read. "I hope I never lose you, baby."

The way he said it made my heart skip a beat. There was so much emotion in his voice and the way he looked at me, and for that brief moment, I forgot to breathe. I didn't want to say anything to ruin it, to tell him how much he meant to me and how I felt the same, but before I could, the world seemed to blur at the edges.

And then I was awake. Again.

I sat up in bed, blinking as the early-morning light filtered through the curtains. This time my heart raced, but not with fear—with the memory of Noe's voice and the way his gaze had shifted to look at me.

I see, coming. I was dreaming—it was a dream in a dream, but unlike the first one, it left me—warm. Safe. It was something almost. maybe possible.

I fell back onto my pillows with a sigh, a smile tugging at my lips. "At least this was a dream I'd want to come real," I whispered to the empty room.

And for the first time that morning, the fear from the nightmare didn't seem so overwhelming.