Then he reaches out his hands and curls them around my throat, his grip vice-like. Impenetrable. He snarls through broken teeth, blood misting my face as he smothers me. “That’s a very bad dog.”

It’s not over. It’s not over.

It will never be over.

I launch myself into a sitting position, slicked head to toe in sweat, my breathing coming quick and uneven. I throw my legs over the side of the bed, my hands squeezing the bedsheets, and I vaguely hear my ringtone going off in the distance as my thoughts begin to find their way back to reality. As I search for my cell phone, lost amongst the dampened sheets, I realize my head is still spinning from the alcohol. Mandy dropped me off at home around eleven P.M., and I promptly chugged a quarter bottle of vodka before passing out well after midnight.

Fuck, I feel like shit.

I locate the ringing phone and see that it’s Cora’s name lighting up the face.

It’s also two o’clock in the morning.

My heart starts to race as I accept the call and slur into the receiver, “Cora? Where’re you?”

“Dean.”

Oh, hell. She sounds like she’s crying. “Are you okay, Corabelle?”

Her sniffles are evident on the other end, accompanied by small whimpers. “I had a horrible nightmare. I can’t shake it and I’m scared.”

“Do you need me?”

I don’t even hesitate to ask. If she needs me, I’m there.

There’s a catch in her breath, and then, “Yes.”

“Gimme fifteen minutes.”

Fifteen minutes later, I’m stumbling out of an Uber in front of her small bungalow, almost tripping over my feet as I jog clumsily up the stone walkway. My forehead falls against the turquoise door, and I start pounding my fist against it as I call out, “Cora, it’s me. Open up.”

I hear her footsteps on the other side, and when she flings the door open, I almost fall forward. I catch myself on the frame, drinking in the sight of her standing there in nothing but a braless, white tank top and cotton panties. But she doesn’t seem to give a shit that she’s half-naked in front of me, because she steps backwards to allow me inside, her eyes red and bloodshot, her feet as unsteady as mine. I close the door behind me, unable to keep my gaze from roving over the body I’ve come to know so well.

She doesn’t try to hide from me.

She knows I’ve seen her far more stripped down than this.

But it’s her eyes that do me in. They look glassy and lifeless and utterly haunted. “Corabelle…”

Her bottom lip quivers as we stare at each other, only a few feet apart. “I took sleeping pills. They’re supposed to help me pass out and forget, but… the nightmares, Dean. I can’t even… God, they’re so horrible.”

I start to move forward, her tears a magnet to my aching heart. “Come here.”

Cora doesn’t falter. She runs towards me, closing the gap between us and weaving her arms around my neck.