Darkness Before Dawn

man? Rough day?" he asks.
    "Blake. I'm with Blake," I stammer and I start sobbing hard when it hits me—really hits me—that I am really with her, that she's really lying beside me and that this nightmare is finally over.
    "What?" he whispers. "Where are you? Is she? Oh my God. Is she-"
    "She's okay, we're at St. Joseph's."
    "On my way," he says and hangs up.
    I can't bring myself to call anybody else so I send Connor a text message saying where I am and one to Mark asking him to get us security. The paparazzi has been security enough for me since Blake's been gone. They're annoying as shit, but nobody would think of coming near me when they're around, and they're always around trying to snoop for a new story.
    I lie back down and for the first time in three and a half weeks, I drift off to sleep without the help of alcohol.

 

    BANG! BANG! BANG! are the sounds I hear before running down the stairs and into the kitchen. I let my eyes roam over the princess decorations and the cupcakes with the number four on top of the counter before I look at my daddy holding a knife in his hand. An angry dark-eyed man is standing before him with a gun in his hand, and my mother is lying in a pool of blood. My chest heaves, my eyes filling with tears before I let out a scream, "Mommy!" The man narrows his black eyes, and tears roll down my daddy's face as they both look at me. My daddy starts to cry loud and scream at the man with the black eyes before the man hits him in the stomach and carries him over his shoulder out of my sight. I run up to Mommy and drop next to her on the floor, shaking her roughly, begging her to wake up before a young man comes into the kitchen.
    "Let's go, baby girl," he says to me.
    "Mark! She won't wake up! Wake her up!" I shriek.
    "No, baby, she's not going to wake up," he replies sadly, as he, too, begins to cry while holding on to me.
    "Get her out of here!!" another man screams as he walks in, taking in the scene. His chest heaves rapidly as he looks between Mommy and me. "GET OUT!" he says louder.
    Mark carries me in his arms, my blood-soaked pajamas hanging heavily from my body and sticking to his, as he takes me to the black van.
    "Why my mommy?" I wail.
    I look up at Mark, his face suddenly becoming Benny's. "That wasn't your mommy," he says with a harsh laugh before pinning me with his crazed eyes. "That was you."
     
    I gasp, trying and failing to sit up. I cringe from the pain that runs from the tip of my head all the way down my body. I blink at the bright lights around me and blink some more until I can focus and see that I'm in a hospital. The last thing I remember is Dean holding my hand and telling me everything was going to be fine. A sudden shift in the bed fills my stomach with apprehension.
    "Oh, thank God," he says hoarsely and pulls my face into his hard chest. I squeeze my eyes shut and will my heart to slow because I know that my sick imagination is playing tricks on me again. I miss that voice so much it hurts. When I sniffle my tears, I'm consumed with his unmistakable fresh scent, and I know this has to be real…unless I'm dead.
    "Blake, look at me," he says quietly as he touches the side of my face and backs away from me a little. My breath starts coming out quickly, in gasps as I tilt my head and open my eyes slowly to meet the most brilliant green eyes I've ever seen. We stare at each other for a long moment with tears in our eyes, before his arms swallow my body in his, shielding me from everything—the light, the dark, and everything in between. For the first time in a very long time, I feel safe. Truly safe. My body begins to shake from my muffled sobs and I cling on to him tighter, not daring to let him go. I pour all of my angst out, trying to let go of the bad and really just grateful that I have something good. Finally.
    "Please don't leave me," I whisper against his chest once our sobbing calms. "Please, please don't let them take me away from you again."
    "Oh God, baby, I'm so sorry. I'm so sorry I wasn't there. I'm so sorry they took you and I wasn't there to protect you. I'm sorry you had to go through that by yourself," he whispers hoarsely. I nod against him, inhaling his scent, that scent I missed so damn much and was beginning to forget.
    We separate and wipe our faces as we study each other. He lightly caresses my face with his thumb. "You have some bruising...and stitches on your head," he says with furrowed eyebrows.
    As I move away, I feel a heavy,