Flashback ( PDFDrive )

Nightmares were far less scary than monsters.
Everything looked blobby and indistinct as the room came into
focus—a splotch of alabaster, a smear of amber, hints of turquoise—
until the colors sharpened into the lovely face of her adoptive mother,
who was lying next to her on a cot that had been pushed right up
against hers.
“Sorry,” Sophie whispered, forcing herself to still as Elwin swooped
in, adjusting pillows and untangling blankets before he carefully
twisted her body back into the stiff position she’d been in the day
before.
She opened her mouth to say more, but . . . she didn’t want to talk
about the dream.
Didn’t want to give it words and make it stick around. She wanted it
to flicker and fade, the way figments of her imagination tended to do.
But the pain . . .
The pain lingered on.
Gethen’s sharp words had sliced into her head, stabbed into her
hand—and now those same places ached.
But she knew that was actually backward.
Dreams were just her subconscious playing games. Weaving
thoughts with reality. So her medicine must’ve worn off, and her mind
must’ve dragged the pain into her nightmare—no different than when
she dreamed of waterfalls and streaming fountains when her bladder
wanted her to wake up.
“You okay?” Edaline asked, brushing smooth fingers down Sophie’s
cheeks.
Sophie hadn’t realized her face was damp—with tears or sweat, she
couldn’t tell. But either way, it explained the pinched shapes that had