She awoke in the wee hours, chest tight as a trap, gasping for air between heavy, stuttering sobs. For the fourth night in a row, she had had the nightmare.

She sits in the middle of an empty street, all the lights out around her, and the rain hammering down. She wears a white gown of cotton that clings to her drenched skin like eager hands, exposing the details of her frail body to the non-existant on-lookers. She looks up at the dark, swirling sky and screams. Her desperate yells are matched by an angery clap of thunder and a bolt of lightening. The rain continues mercilessly.

"Why?!" she screams, inquiring after her misfortune.

"Because it had to happen," the wind seems to answer, chilling her wet skin and bringing goosebumps to the surface.

She looks down at the pavement where she sits, in a puddle of something liquid, but far from water. It stains her dress a deep crimson and the strong stench of iron assults her nose, bringing tears to her already red, puffy eyes. She lets out another throaty sob, turning once again to the sky.

"Why him?" she asks, merely whimpering this time, and recieves no response. Instead, she clutches the soft object that she has in her pruning hand. It is another hand like hers, pale with death and mangled. Attached being the body of her lover, face down and lifeless beside her in the rainstorm.

"Baby..."

She was jolted out of her nightmare by his voice. His rich, caramel coffee voice in her ear. She turned to him and looked at his eyes, baby blue and deep with concern and love. His big hands pulled her to him and she inhaled his musky, sweet scent. His distinct odor that only he could produce. Nestled on his shoulder, her breathing slowed.

"Did you have the dream again?" he asked in her ear, his breath tickling the strands of brown hair on her cheek. She silently nodded and pressed herself closer to him, closing her eyes and her mind to anything but him.

"Never leave me," she whispered back, her throat still choking on her supressed tears.

"Never, baby. Never," he said with conviction, "Now please, go back to sleep. It'll all be better in the morning. I promise. It always is."