Some Quiet Place

one’s watching. When she’s certain that there’s nothing but the howling wind and the disapproving stars, she runs. The woods aren’t far, and as soon as she plunges into their cover a tall figure steps out from behind a tree.
    “Rebecca.”
    She gasps, whirling, and presses a hand to her chest. When she sees who it is her eyes narrow. “Don’t do that,” she snaps.
    Fear grins back, unrepentant. Rebecca smiles back reluctantly. Coy now, she puts her hands behind her back and sways. She’s wearing nothing but a tank top and boxer shorts. Fear’s gaze flicks up and down, and she has trouble releasing the air in her lungs when his pupils dilate.
    “Like what you see?” she tries to tease, but the breathless quality to her voice ruins the effect. Fear reaches for her wordlessly, but she quickly bounces away, laughing. The Emotion stalks her across the clearing, his long coat flaring. Just as she darts to the left to escape, he snatches her hands. Her struggle is half-hearted, and she lets him tug her to him despite the way his touch makes her heart pound and her palms sweat.
    Embracing her, Fear’s lips skim Rebecca’s collarbone, hot and cold all at once. She gasps, throwing her head back. Her eyes latch onto the night, but she hardly notices the velvet expanse of galaxy. Somehow they’re on the ground. Fear is kissing her everywhere now, her arm, the spot beside her belly button, her thigh, her calf, the bottom of her foot, back up to her cheek, her breast, and finally, finally her mouth. He’s so tender, but she’s impatient. She’s hungry for him. She wraps her legs around his waist.
    He gasps her name as she pulls him closer, forcing the kiss into something more powerful. She loves his taste—strawberries and horror. She loves his eyes-nose-lips-cheeks. Their passion consumes them, and they drown in each other as they tumble in more sweat and ragged gasps. The grass is wet on their skin; dew permeates the dark.
    “Don’t go tonight,” the girl whispers, her eyes sparkling with abandon and adoration. Her long dark hair drapes down her back and Fear smooths it away, kissing her shoulder. His mouth is soft.
    “I love you,” he says simply. The girl cups his cheek with her palm, smiling. She doesn’t need to say the words—her uneven breathing says it all. He grins at her in return, a slow, sensual, loving smile. They clasp each other close once again, sinking back into the grass.
    “I just want to run a few more tests. It’s always better to be safe than—”
    “No, it’s not necessary. She’ll be fine. You said yourself, you’ve never seen anyone recover so quickly.”
    “Yes, but her blood cells are nothing I’ve—”
    “I said no, Dr. Pruett. Now please give me some time alone with her.”
    When my eyelids flutter open and I take in the smooth white ceiling above me, I’m instantly aware that the power has realigned itself and stands strong once again. My nothingness is back in place, blocking any Emotion that should try to come my way. It takes me a moment to recall all that’s happened. I can’t conjure any excitement at the fact there’s one more piece added to the puzzle: Rebecca, the beautiful, angry, sad, mysterious girl that haunts me … Fear knew her. Fear loved her.
    Oddly enough, my chest aches at the thought. Is Fear alive? Where is he? Only Nightmare knows.
    My mind skitters away from thinking of him.
    There’s a poster of a kitten taped to the ceiling. GET WELL SOON! it reads. Focusing on it, I wonder about the relevance of the feline.
    “Are you awake?”
    Sarah stands by my bed, staring down at me. She looks tired. There are bags under her eyes and there’s a slump to her shoulders that I—not Tim—have put there. She shoves her wispy hair out of the way and sighs. “Joshua is out in the waiting room. He’s been there all night.”
    “Where are Tim and Charles?”
    She plucks a Kleenex from the box next to my head, dabbing her eyes with it. They’re watery from exhaustion. “When they found out you’re going to be fine, they both left. Tim is at home, in the fields. Charles is at work, I think. He says if you’re better by the time you check out, you should come to the track and watch him race.” A rueful smile just barely crosses her lips.
    “You should sit,” I tell her. She does, probably just be-cause her feet are aching and she doesn’t want to go home. The chair squeaks at her weight.
    The hospital room I’m in reminds me of