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That night I dreamed about him. I dreamed about his skin and the feel of his hair under my hands. I dreamed about his long thighs tangled in mine, his heart beating against my chest. I dreamed about his face hovering above mine and felt his breath warm on my face. Only there was an odd odor. Sour. Salty. Not Adder’s scent. But something familiar about it. Then I thought, There are no smells in dreams, and dreamed I should open my eyes. But before I could, a hand came down on my face, covering my mouth, crushing my nose so that I couldn’t breathe. I flailed out at him, kneed him in the stomach,
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