Six
Reluctantly, I wake. Jonathan’s arms wrap around me, his chin resting against my shoulder. His body against mine comforts me in a way I desperately need. I can't speak—can't move. I'm trapped in an in-between state where dreams, or perhaps distant memories, dance before me. Blurry faces bob in my mind's eye, but no voices accompany them. The sensation of phantom touches coats my body in goosebumps, as well as a cold sweat.
The impression of hands against my body sends chills throughout, because Jonathan is still, and he isn't moving. Which means the touches I feel are in my head, but the foreign, unknown touch is a caress, and my anxiety eases. It's a strange pull, tempting me to move from the bed, but Jonathan's presence is enough to cement me in place.
When he wakes, he brushes th
