A/n- thank you for all the encouraging/ helpful reviews. I didn’t realize people were unclear on the rape bit... Ya, Misha’s brother raped him. Generally this story is not going to get a lot more “lucid”. Someone mentioned the story moves like a drug trip and that’s sort of the idea. It will stay pretty narrowly narrated as in dialogue, emotions, and stage directions. Background, history, etc. will likely be pretty scantily threaded in. Hope that doesn’t deter y’all, but encourages you to fill in the gaps?

anyway, read, review, and enjoy!

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I am alternating between screaming and crying. He is above me, driving into me without a thought for my pain. I had come to him initially seeking comfort from the storm. The rumbling thunder had scared me, and the lightning had made me cry. In a brief stroke of bravery, I had raced from my bedroom to his, diving for his bed and squirming under his sheets. He wrapped his arms around me, the same way he always did when I was nervous. He was going to protect me, just like he always did.

I was so, so very wrong.

“Misha, Misha wake up Doll.”

I hear the voice as if under water. The bedroom around me shifts and I am suddenly encased in glass. Outside, Damien is watching me, a hand pressed against the cool clear boundary between us. I reach up and press my palm over his, feeling his warmth translate through the glass. The room is very cold and I am shaking and I can’t breathe properly. I scream Damien, in two painful breaths. He pulls his hand away from the glass and produces my knife from his pocket. I am choking and writhing and the floor is like a sheet of ice. I see him raise the knife against the glass, as if to shatter it. I cry his name again, but my relieved exclamation morphs into a scream of pain as the glass seemingly evaporates and the knife instead plunges into my chest.

Damien grins over me, and I can see him, smirking over Damien’s shoulder. His arms snakes around Damien’s and clutch at his wrist, guiding his hand. He drags Damien’s hand down and the knife twists in my chest.

I am screaming and he is smiling.

He pulls Damien away from my convulsing body, wrapping Damien up into his arms and tugging him against his chest. Damien relaxes, sharing a languid kiss with my bloodied brother.

Damien.

He looks down at me and sneers. The glass reforms around me, like lattice work bars caging me in clear ice. There is cold all around me and a pool of icy blood is forming beneath my spine.

The pair turns away, leaving me sinking in cold red and clutching at the knife embedded in my glass heart.

“Misha, wake up. Wake up!”

A stinging slap jolts me to consciousness and I jerk awake with a dismayed cry. I am panting and shaking and it takes a moment for me to adjust to my surroundings. There is a sheen of cold sweat coating my body and my head is swimming with dizziness. When I am centered enough to focus, my gaze swings around to the other occupant of the bed, only half-surprised when I find it isn’t one of the white coated men.

“You called out to me...”

Damien is frowning as if I am some particular difficult puzzle irking his mind. He moves closer on the bed, tipping my chin in his direction and forcing me to look into his inquisitive eyes. I am trebling all over, frightened my dead brother might appear over Damien’s shoulder.

“Is- is it still storming?” I wonder aloud. I choose to ignore his unasked question.

My answer comes in the form of a particularly ominous rumble of thunder and I whimper and bury myself beneath the sheets. I am achy all over and my stomach is twisting and rolling. I feel him slide into the bed beside me and I unconsciously move a little closer. The dream is still vivid and vicious in my memory, but the cold and pain drive me to his side.

He wraps a strong arm around my waist just as lightning illuminates the room. I wince and curl up against his chest, hiding between his jaw and collarbone. He strokes my back absently, wrapping his legs around me too.

“You’re sweating baby.”

I burrow my nose into his neck and inhale smoke and cologne.

“You’re awfully warm. Do you have a fever?”

I nod and drape an arm around his shoulder.

He makes a low disapproving noise and pulls back just far enough to press his hand over my forehead. I flinch a little and hiss at the coldness of his hand.

“Damn you certainly do. Come on,”

He drags me upwards despite my mewl of protest. Hauling me against his chest, he walks me to the adjacent bathroom, setting me down near the tub. Immediately I begin to shiver and I moan in my pain. My skin feels prickly and hot all over, and my eyes blur with miserable tears. He fills the tub quickly and then peels me out of my damp clothes. I am shaking and my teeth involuntarily gnash against each other.

“Damien it’s so cold...” I sob.

He strips out of his own clothes and I immediately press against him for body heat. He carefully lifts me off of the tiled ground and sets me in the water. I sink down almost purring at the heat. He joins me a moment later, carefully maneuvering me so as to avoid too much contact. For this, I almost pathetically grateful as my skin still feels sensitive and chaffing. He ladles handfuls of water over my head and rubs my skin with a milk soap bar. I whimper and make pitiful noises, but he shushes me and ignores my quiet curses.

Just as the water begins to cool, he pulls me out of the water and wraps a thick blanket around me. I whine low in my throat and my teeth begin to chatter again.

“Hush you, let’s get you back to your bed.” He coaxes me back under the sheets and immediately follows, gingerly pulling the towel away from my quaking body. He piles comforters over me and pets my hair and curls around me like a wall to keep out the storm. Wrapped in his body heat and a heavy feather comforter, I slow begin to warm up.

“Why are you doing this?” I question drowsily, pressing closer to his naked chest.

“Like I’d let you die of a fever.” He snorts, as if the very idea is just beyond laughable.

“But really...” I mumble, reflecting back on my dream. I can still see Damien in my mind, twined around my brother. I feel an ache in my chest, and the tears that burn my cheek are no longer only fever tracks.

“You’re so silly, Doll. You’re mine to kill, remember?” He mumbles possessively, stroking my side.

I relax a little and the ache ebbs away as I lay my cheek against his arm.

“Not unless I kill you first...” I mumble before falling asleep.