The Enemy in My Bed by L.K. Shaw

Mila

Freedom is onlya few feet away.

I can smell it.

Taste it.

The woman I’m trying to help stumbles alongside me as we rush across the yard of the compound toward the brick barrier surrounding it. Gunfire and men yelling echoes around us. She freezes and then tries yanking her hand from mine, but I hold tight. We have to get out of here before Mikhail discovers us both missing.

“Jacob!” she screams next to me. “I’m here.”

“What are you doing?” She’s going to get us caught.

The woman jerks to face me. “That’s my husband.”

She rips her hand from mine and spins in the direction of the burning building. I turn away and toward the wall where I’ve managed to create an escape route. She made her choice. I can no longer help her. I must help myself.

Behind me, she screams in fear. I hesitate. Cursing my weakness, I whip around. Mikhail has captured her. She flails and kicks, but he’s too strong. Fury rushes through me. He will not hurt another woman.

“Let her go.” I pound on his back, my fists doing no damage in spite of my effort.

He pulls out a gun and rounds on me. My eyes close. Prosti menya, Anya.

“Nyeuzheli ti dumala shto ti tak lehko spasyoshsya, Mila?” His question is mocking and full of disdain.

Yes, I had thought escaping would be that easy. I’d planned it so well.

“Mikhail!” An unfamiliar voice barks instead.

He is no longer looking at me. Instead, he’s focused on the other man who has a weapon pointed at us. This must be the woman’s husband.

Escape. Now.

Thankful for the diversion, I rush over to the brick barrier and quickly start to remove the ones I’ve spent countless months picking and scraping away at. I’m almost there.

A giant hand covers my mouth and nose while a strong arm wraps around my waist, lifting me off my feet. I claw at the makeshift gag. He doesn’t even flinch, despite the blood I draw. Panic sets in. I can’t breathe. Black spots dance in my vision. I’m going to die. Then the hand shifts lower, and I desperately pull air in through my nose.

My captor carries me, thrashing, across the yard. A gunshot rings out. I freeze. Is the woman dead? Or is it Mikhail? Did her husband take my revenge from me?

My kicking resumes. The back of my foot connects, and the man holding me groans, but he doesn’t loosen his grip. Several cars come into view. Men with guns surround them. I scream behind the hand, but none of them pays us any attention.

He says something to one of the men in a foreign language. Italian, maybe? The trunk of the nearest vehicle opens. None too gently, I’m dropped in there, but before I can try and scramble out, the lid closes. Darkness surrounds me. Closes in on me. I scream at the top of my lungs. Panic rises. I’m suffocating. Being smothered. I pound on the metal above me. I dig at the seam. I push with everything I have. I’m trapped.

“Please,” I beg, no longer caring if I show my cowardice. “Please don’t leave me in here.”

I try to inhale, but my lungs don’t work. My eyes are open, but there’s nothing surrounding me except blackness.

“Please.” It’s a whimper, faint and choked.

There’s buzzing in my head, and my heartbeat thumps in my ears. It grows slower with each passing second, until, at last, everything fades away.

I’m cradledagainst a warm chest. I snuggle closer, breathing in the clean scent of soap. My eyes flicker open, but it’s nearly dark, and I close them again. The air around me is cool. I must be having another one of my dreams. Perhaps this man will keep the demons away.

Just beyond the fresh scent of the dream man is a musty, earthy fragrance. Almost pungent. I bury my nose deeper into his chest. He smells wonderful.

My dreams have never been this vivid before. At least not the good ones. I shiver.

We stop moving. Against my will I open a single eye. He opens a door, and we enter a room. In front of me is nothing but pitch blackness. To my surprise, I don’t fear the dark. It’s as though my dream man is keeping me safe. Protected against the monsters that lurk after the lights go out.

He sets me down in a chair. His fingers lift my hand and place it on the arm rest. Something drapes over my wrist. It tightens. I jerk upright. This isn’t a dream.

I struggle against the restraint, ripping at it with my free hand. He grabs that one as well and binds it to the other arm rest. Next, both ankles are tied to the legs of the chair. I struggle against my captivity.

Memories flood my mind. Fleeing the compound. Nearly escaping. The gunshot. Being captured. The darkness. It’s all there.

“Who are you? Where am I? Why have you taken me?” I rattle off the questions with a false bravado. How did I almost escape one captor only to land in the hands of another?

He doesn’t answer. The only sound is my own heavy breathing. The only movement comes from me. I still. Slowly, I inhale and then exhale. I cock my head, trying to capture a noise. Anything that would indicate my abductor is present. The door remains open, which means he’s in this room with me. Somewhere.

I turn my head in either direction—pausing—straining to locate him. A dark shadow shifts to my right. I focus in on it.

“Who are you?” I repeat. “What do you want with me?”

“The more important question is…who are you?” His baritone voice sends a chill across my neck. Goosebumps rise on my arms.

I shake off the sensation. “I am no one.”

It’s the truth. I am no one. Not any longer.

The man steps in front of me, the faint light from the hallway leaving him in shadows, his features indiscernible. He’s staring down at me. That much I can tell. He turns and closes the door, bringing complete darkness with it. My heart rate spikes. Please, not again.

A light flares bright. I blink against it. My vision clears, and I lock eyes with my captor. I suck in a breath.

Death is no stranger to me.

I’ve dreamt of Death from the time I was a little girl. No matter how many times I dream of him, though, I never see his entire face. Only his hell-fire red eyes glowing in the darkness. He doesn’t speak. He’s merely present.

Watching.

Waiting.

I told my mother about him the first time he appeared. She slapped me across the face. I never spoke of him again. The older I’ve gotten, the more frequently I dream of him. It’s as though he’s been preparing me for the day we meet in person.

Today is that day.

The man standing before me is Death.

He’s finally come for me.