"James?"
His mother's voice came.
James opened his eyes. He was still in the living room. Still on the couch. His body was drenched in sweat, his breath unsteady, his heart pounding.
"Was it a nightmare?" His mother looked at him with worry.
"Yes... it was…" James muttered, leaning forward as he wiped the sweat from his forehead. His hands were still shaking slightly. "What's the time?"
"It's exactly ten." She said softly.
James let out a slow breath, rubbing his face as he tried to shake off the nightmare.
His mother sat down beside him, her brows furrowed in concern. "You were shouting."
"Was I?" He didn't even realize. His throat felt raw, like he had been gasping for air.
She nodded. "You called for help… and then…" Her voice wavered. "You said, 'Don't hurt her.'"
James stiffened. His fingers curled into fists against his thighs.
His mother placed a hand on his arm. "James, are you—"
