Pretend With Me (Midnight Society #1) by Jemma Grey Page B

the front of the room. Then I climbed into bed,
only to toss and turn.
My body felt sore. My back and neck ached. My
shoulders felt as if weights were placed on them, and my
legs were groaning in pain. I was tired yet, my mind
refused to let me rest. It kept bringing up topics I would
rather bury.
I was so confused right now. I loved Daren and I
always will. He was my first love and after losing him the
way I did, I didn't think I'd be able to love another person
again. I didn't want to, because that would mean moving
on, and I just couldn't, not after he'd died for me. But
there was also this thing with Eric. How was I going to get
out of this marriage? How did I stop these feelings for
him? Did I even want to?
* * *
    I was stuck somewhere in the middle of sleep and
reality. I was dreaming and in my dream, I was covered in
blood, kneeling at his side, begging him to wake up. I
literally felt the tears streaming down my face, leaving a
burning trail on my cheeks. I heard myself screaming.
Then hands were violently shaking me as though its owner
wanted to crush me. I opened my eyes pushing at the
hands, not wanting to be touched.
    “Hey,” Eric said, his face inches from mine. “It’s just a
dream. You're fine.” He was still shaking me as I fought
him. It took a moment for us to both stop, and when he
released me I sat up on the bed, wiping my face dry. “I
heard you all the way in the other room. You okay?”
    “Sorry,” I muttered, not answering as images of my
dream and the reality behind it flashed in my head, making
my stomach turn. I shot out of the bed and into the
washroom. I had barely made it to the toilet before most –
if not everything – that I had eaten came up.
    After I was done, I went to the sink. I felt sick and
worn out, and it wasn't just because of the dreams or lack
of sleep. I opened the tap and washed my mouth.
    “Jen are you okay?” I turned to find Eric standing in
the doorway.
“No,” I muttered, exhausted. “Go away.” Instead of
doing what I asked he walked into the small room and
stopped at my side.
“What's the matter?”
“Nothing,” I lied turning back to the sink.
“Did you take your medication?”
Before I could stop myself I said “No.” I had stopped
taking my meds completely since I found out his father
was my supplier.
“Then that's why you're throwing up.” He reached into
the medicine box and came out with a small, ambercoloured looking bottle that I knew all too well. “You
didn't take it yesterday either,” he commented and began
uncapping it. Before he could finish, I snatched the bottle
from his hands.
“I can do it myself,” I said facing him and he dropped
his hands to his side waiting expectantly. “Do you mind?”
His eyes narrowed at me, taking me in. I held his gaze.
“Okay,” he sighed giving up, shuffling out of the
bathroom and shutting the door behind him. As soon as I
heard the click, I slouched over to the door and turned the
lock, then went back to the sink.
I waited for a minute and then uncapped the bottle,
taking out three of the pills. Another minute passed as I
stared down at the brown oval shaped pills that suddenly
felt too heavy in my hands. I shook away the doubt in my
head and turned towards the toilet dropping them in. As
soon as they hit the water, they began to dissolve, staining
the water a faint pinkish color. I flushed the toilet once,
recapped the bottle then replaced it in the medicine box
and walked out of the room.
Eric was sitting on the bed practically burning a hole
through the bathroom door. When I walked out, he
perked up. Sometime while I was in there he had pulled on
a t-shirt. “So are you okay now?” he asked scrutinizing my
every move. “You don't look too good.”
My heart kicked off. “I'm fine,” I lied in the most
normal voice I could manage.
“Are you sure?”
“Yes,” I breathed out, trying to calm my frantic heart.
If I was going to pull this off, I needed to be as normal as I
could. “I'm