Chapter 79

There is peace in the moments that separate sleep from wakefulness—sweet minutes that seem to stretch into hours, pleasant and comforting, like a gift from a benevolent universe.

This is a dream world, and right now I feel safe in it. I feel comfortable. I want to stay here, cradled in its welcoming arms.

But dreams often turn into nightmares, and as I drift through the passages of sleep, the sinister claws of fear try to catch me. My pulse quickens, my breath turns shallow. I turn in bed, reaching for him, but he isn’t there, and I bolt upright in a cold sweat, my heart pounding so hard I’m sure I’ll crack a rib.

“Marcus.”

Now I am awake, alone and disoriented, fighting an uncontrollable panic. I’m scared, though I don’t remember why. Then it all rushes back, and as memory returns, I almost wish I could sink into oblivion again—because no horror my mind invents in dreams is worse than the cold, raw reality that surrounds me now.

A reality in which my w