Behind the spotlight

The calm after the storm

The pounding on the door resumed, louder than before, shaking the walls with each hit. My head whipped toward it, my breathing shallow and erratic.

"Open the door, Y/N," his voice growled from the other side, so close it felt like he was right next to me.

I slid off the bed, my legs trembling beneath me. I didn't want to go to the door, but my body moved on its own, like I had no choice. The floor creaked under my feet as I approached it, each step feeling heavier than the last.

The doorknob rattled violently. "Y/N," his voice snapped, sharp and commanding. "Don't make me break it down."

I reached for the knob, my hand shaking uncontrollably. I didn't want to open it, but something inside me said I had to. My fingers brushed the cold metal, and—

I woke up.

I woke with a sharp gasp, my chest heaving, fingers clawing at the damp sheets tangled around me. The room was still cloaked in darkness, its familiar outline unchanged, but the echoes of the dream lingered, wrapping themselves tightly around me like a suffocating weight. My skin felt clammy, drenched in cold sweat that slid down my back and soaked the edges of my shirt.

As I sat there, trying to steady my breathing, my hands shaking uncontrollably, a soft voice broke through the silence.

"Hey."

I flinched, turning sharply, my vision blurry with tears I hadn't realized had welled up. Billie was sitting up, her eyes fixed on me—wide, searching, and filled with concern.

She must've been watching me before I woke up. I could tell by the way her brow furrowed and her lips parted slightly, like she'd already been reaching for me in her head.

"You okay?" she asked, her voice low but steady, though I could hear the edge of worry threading through it. She moved closer, her hand brushing mine, testing, as if to see if I would pull away. I didn't.

I opened my mouth to respond, but my throat felt raw, as if the screams I'd swallowed in the dream were still lodged inside me. No sound came out, only a shaky exhale that seemed to unnerve her even more. Without hesitation, she reached for me, her movements deliberate but gentle, wrapping her arms around me and pulling me against her.

"It's okay," she murmured softly, her lips close to my temple. "I'm here Y/N. You're safe."

Her touch was grounding—fingers brushing against my back in slow, calming circles as she tucked my head under her chin. Her heartbeat thudded steadily against my ear, the rhythm so certain and strong it made my erratic breaths feel almost foolish. I clung to her, my hands gripping the soft fabric of her sweatshirt like it was the only thing tethering me to reality.

She shifted slightly, adjusting her hold so she could look at me better. Her hand found my cheek, her thumb brushing away a tear I didn't even realize had escaped. I forced myself to meet her gaze, even though the shame and fear clung to me like a second skin.

"Talk to me," she whispered, her voice so tender it almost unraveled me. "You're shaking."

I rested in Billie's arms, the warmth of her body grounding me, but the unsettling feeling from my dream refused to fade. I still felt the heaviness, the tension, like I was on the edge of something that could swallow me whole.

I had to say something, but the words felt too big to speak, too heavy. I shifted slightly, pulling away just enough to look at her, my heart racing. She was already watching me, her gaze full of concern, the kind of concern that made me feel seen in a way I wasn't sure I was ready for.

"Billie," I started, my voice barely a whisper. "I—I had this dream." I paused, trying to make sense of what had just happened in my mind. "It was so real. Like, terrifying real. It felt like I couldn't wake up from it. Like it wasn't just a nightmare, but something... more."