Nightmare

Elijah glanced up at the sky, brows furrowing as a fat raindrop splattered against his forehead, then another. The sun vanished behind a sheet of gray in a matter of seconds, and the air grew heavy, thick with the promise of a storm.

He looked over at Hillory, still sitting alone on the blanket, oblivious to the impending downpour. She was lost in thought, fingers absently tracing the edges of a letter. He hesitated, wondering if he should say something, warn her. But the words stuck in his throat.

Instead, he turned back to the path, lengthening his strides as the rain began to fall in earnest. It pounded against the dirt, turning the ground to mud beneath his boots. He could feel it soaking through his already damp shirt, plastering the fabric to his skin. But he hardly noticed, too focused on the way Hillory's hair curled in the damp air, the way her dress clung to her curves. The rain was cold, but he felt hot under his skin, his face flushed and burning.

By the time he reached the old shack he called home, he was drenched head to toe, water dripping from the ends of his hair and the hem of his shirt. He kicked off his boots at the door and hung up his jacket, shaking off the worst of the rain. The house was dark, Maisie and his mama probably asleep already. He crept down the hall to the bedroom they shared, pausing outside the door to listen. Nothing but the steady rasp of his mama's breathing, the occasional creak of the bed frame as she shifted in her sleep.

He let out a slow breath, then pushed the door open, stepping inside. Maisie was curled up on the bed, her hair splayed across the pillow, a book clutched to her chest. She looked so small, so fragile, and for a moment, he felt a surge of protectiveness, a fierce urge to keep her safe, to shield her from the harsh realities of the world outside.

But then he heard a soft whimper, a muffled cry, and his heart clenched. He stepped closer, realized she was having a nightmare, thrashing beneath the thin blanket. He sat down beside her, one calloused hand coming to rest on her shoulder, squeezing gently.

Elijah felt Maisie's small body stiffen in his arms as she woke with a start, her breath coming in sharp, frightened gasps. He tightened his grip, pulling her closer as he rubbed her back in soothing circles.

"Shhh, it's alright, Maisie-girl," he whispered, his voice a low rumble in the darkness. "It was just a dream."

Maisie shook her head, burying her face against his chest as she clung to him like a lifeline. "N-no, it f-feels real," she whimpered, her voice muffled by his damp shirt. "I-I saw it, Eli. I saw m-mama sick and c-coughing up blood. And you-you were gone, and we h-had nowhere to go. We were cold and h-hungry, and people p-pushed past us on the streets, and no one c-cared..."

Elijah's heart shattered in his chest at the sheer anguish in her voice. He knew that fear, had lived with it gnawing at him for years. The terror of losing their mother, of being left alone and unprotected in a world that chewed up the weak and spat them out. He had seen it happen to others in town, families torn apart by sickness and misfortune. And the thought of it happening to Maisie, of her being forced to face that kind of cruelty and hardship... it made him want to roar with rage and despair.

He cupped her face in his hands, tilting her chin up to look at him as he brushed the tears from her cheeks with his thumbs. "Listen to me, Maisie," he said, his voice low and intense, his eyes boring into hers. "I promise you, on everythin' I hold dear, that ain't gonna happen. I won't let it. You're my responsibility, mine and mine alone, and I'll die before I let any harm come to you."