It would be unreasonable to even want to keep him to herself, yet she wants to be selfish. She wants to be greedy with his attentions, with his affection. Silly girl, you know that's the way you break your own heart. Knowing didn't prevent it, in whole or even in part. It couldn't, it wouldn't prevent it. Jael knows. She knows better. If wishes were horses, beggars would ride-- Jael is a beggar. The two of them together? Sinners. It didn't matter, not now. Not now that she was allowed to feel. Fuck, who let her feel like this?
All it had taken was a big ol' smack on the head.
Or several.
Curled up in her bed, Jael has her latest prize. Had she perhaps found her way into his bedroom when it was blessedly vacant? Had she maybe snagged something for herself? She couldn't confirm or deny where the blanket had come from, only that it smelled of Gil and she would be sleeping with it from now on. If he'd even noticed, he hadn't said anything yet. It was late by the time she finally turned in, curled up under the pilfered blanket, curled up close to the fire place. The moon hung high in the sky, pale light struggling to even crack the clouds outside tonight.
Within the inky darkness, Jael is hunted once more. She is being tracked, she can feel it. Eyes on her. A predatory gaze that sinks deep past her skin, that sees her on the inside. All sticky and warm, laid bare in the worst way. Flayed and raw. She trembles, thrashes in her sleep. Whimpering at first, and then crying out. In the grips of a fight between death and life once more. Jael could feel the jaws of the beast, she could feel the snap and bite. The rending of flesh.
In her sleep she writhes, whimpers. Jael cries out, inadvertently shattering the peace and stillness of the night. The bad dreams have a tight hold on the girl, and she has yet to be able to shake herself awake. Unfortunately for Jael the terror is very, very real.
Professor
