I'd never really screamed before. I'd given a yip of surprise or a squeal of delight, but never a real, gut-wrenching scream. I used to wonder if I was even capable of it. Whereas most would scream in fear, I usually turned to rage instead. I'd turn that frightened energy into something vicious because if I was going to go down, I wanted to make damn sure I took everyone else with me.

So, as I stood in the quiet kitchen, with nothing but the hum of the fridge and buzz of the electric light, I was almost shocked by the scream that pierced the hush. It tore at my throat, raw, primal and desperate. It was the embodiment of the feeling crushing my chest as I saw the bloody trail leading to Nightmare's dainty black frame. She lay sprawled on her side, her vivid green eyes clenched shut as her small pink mouth panted erratically.

The last echoes of my scream bounced off the kitchen walls as I scrabbled towards her; my hands slipping on the smear of blood that marked her movements. I barely registered the crash of the kitchen door behind me as it was forced open.

"Anna?" Atticus called frantically, but I couldn't answer him. I couldn't think about anything except the way Nightmare's blood contrasted against the black and white tiles — a gruesome Jackson Pollock.

"Nightmare, sweetie?" I cooed, my voice shaking as much as my hands. Could I touch her? Should I touch her? Would I make whatever this was worse?

In my periphery I saw Atticus crouch beside me. A waft of the scent that was now synonymous with his presence drifted around me. It was comforting, even now, although I couldn't pinpoint why.

My hands skated over Nightmare's velvet black fur, feeling her shallow shuddering breaths tremble under my touch.

She felt so cold.

"Oh god!" Tears burst free as my mind whirled through what was happening and what to do next.

"What happened?" Atticus asked softly.

"I don't know," I mumbled. "I came in and found her like this. I need to get her to a vet." My legs wobbled as I stood, walking halfway to the lounge before realising that I didn't have anything to carry her in, or know where the nearest vets was, or have any idea how I was going to save her. All I knew was that I had to save her. Somehow. Whatever it took. I couldn't let her die.

My eyes flashed over her again, and I felt my blood boil with anger, not just at what had happened but at myself. I'd taken her in, yet I hadn't planned for any of this. I thought I could just feed and house her and that was all she needed. But like every house plant I'd ever had, she was going to die because I was too apathetic to really care for her. I should know where the nearest vet was. I should have a car to drive her. I should have money saved to treat her. I should have a taken control of her wellbeing and planned how to keep her safe.

"She needs a vet. I need to ring someone..." I pulled my phone from my pocket and tried to find answers with numb fumbling fingers.

As I tried to pull myself together, I watched Atticus lay a hand against Nightmare. From fingertip to palm he covered almost half her body. I choked out a sob as I saw how small she really was. How vulnerable.

Atticus looked up at me with gentle blue eyes. "Get some towels and some warm water."

I felt a flicker of hope but with it came the bitter sting of distrust.

"Don't fucking dare use her for your own agenda!"

He flinched at my accusation, but he didn't fight it, instead he softly spoke. "You say you can't trust my words so trust my actions. Let me help her."

I nodded as I battled back the tears. Nightmare needed me to keep it together, somehow.

"She's going to be OK, Anna. Go grab some towels. I'll keep her warm," Atticus said as he gently cupped her head in his unusually warm palm.

I dashed from the lounge to the large cupboard near my bedroom and tugged at the door, cursing as it fought against me. I planted my hand on the doorframe and wretched the handle, breaking whatever vacuum had held it in place. The door flung wide, thumping off the wall beside it. My hands dove into the pile of stacked towels, pulling at anything I could get my hands on. With a tumble, the array of coloured towels fell from the cupboard. I bundled them in my arms, trying to ignore how Nightmare's blood stained the faded pastel fabric.

What if we couldn't save her? What if I never heard her chirp in greeting as I entered a room, or never saw her trot down the hallway to hide in my wash basket; her tail drooped at the top like a bumper car at the fairground?

The questions plagued my mind while numb feet carried me back to the kitchen. I halted in the doorway. My eyes widened and my mouth dropped open as I watched Nightmare circling Atticus' feet, curling her tail around his legs while he wiped his hand on the back of his dark jeans.

The towels fell at my feet as I went to her. I wanted to scoop her into my arms, but she had never been one for cuddles, so instead I crouched beside her and let her brush herself against my palm. She nuzzled in close for a second before changing her mind with a serpent-like flick of her tail. She arched herself once more against Atticus' leg before tootling towards her food bowl; her tail pointing straight to the ceiling.

I stood slowly, examining the kitchen around me before I reached Atticus' gaze. There was nothing out of place and yet there was something different. It took me a second to figure out what it was, but soon I realised there was a faint scent of incense permeating the room. It was sweet, and heady, and barely detectable, but I could smell it mingling with the pungent aroma of this morning's curried noodles.

"I don't understand."

Atticus shifted, casting a glance back to Nightmare as she crunched through her food. "She was just cold and stunned. All she needed was some warmth."

"But the blood..." I looked at the discarded towels, the bloody handprints scattered across their surface, and the thick smears of blood which still lingered on the kitchen floor.

"Probably some mouse or rabbit she had for dinner. Perhaps she ate too much." He must have seen the scepticism on my face because he flashed me a reassuring smile. "She's OK, I promise."

We both watched her for a moment, me with confusion and Atticus with a small smile playing across his lips. She looked exactly as she always did. Midnight black fur took on a sheen under the harsh kitchen light and her tail curled around herself while she ate. There was no sign that she was hurt, or ever had been.

Relief rolled through me, an unstoppable wave like those that crashed against the promenade at the coast. And just as the water thundered against the concrete, I felt the emotions of the night battle against my walls. The exhaustion from a long and tiresome shift; the anxiety surrounding Mr R's reappearance; the frustration of dealing with the Watchers; the confusion only Atticus could make me feel. A cacophony of emotion all swirling, and churning, and clashing against the last fragments of strength I had left.

I don't know how long I watched Nightmare for, but eventually my trance was broken by the warmth of a soft, damp dishcloth gently passing over my palms.

I blinked and looked to my hands held in Atticus' as he cleaned the last of the dried blood from my skin.

"Thank you," I said in a quiet voice, my eyes meeting his. It was just a fleeting moment, but as his eyes held mine, I felt the world go still.

His lips curled up into a compassionate smile, the quiet kind that made his eyes warm and soft like rich blue velvet.

"Anytime."

Tears rushed to my eyes and with them I felt my last shred of control surrender like a sandcastle to the sea. As the tears started to fall, Atticus wrapped his arms around me. If it were any other night, I would have pulled away but not tonight. Instead, I stood there, enveloped by warmth and silence, with Atticus' chest against my cheek as my tears slowly sunk through his t-shirt.

And for a little while, the voices in my head fell quiet. No hateful whispers, no flashbacks of Mr R and my life with him, nothing but the feeling of safety and warmth and something else... something that made my skin feel like live wire: sensitive and heated.

I wasn't sure how long we stood like that, but at some point, between then and now, Atticus moved me to the sofa and covered me with the baby pink throw Nightmare loved so much. She joined me soon after, curling into the nook between my arm and chest. That was the first time she let me really cuddle her, and when I did, curling my hand around her waist, I thought I felt the sticky texture of blood-matted fur.

I should have woken up then and asked Atticus to explain, but I didn't, because it didn't matter. Not really. Maybe he had told the truth and Nightmare had been fine all along, or perhaps her recovery was just another Watcher mystery I would never understand, but as I felt her heartbeat against my palm, I knew I didn't care how she was alive, only that she was, and somehow Atticus had helped her.

He didn't need to. After the way I'd berated him he could have gone up to his flat and listened as I lost her, but he hadn't. That fact added to the litany of acts he'd done since I met him, and for once I pushed my distrust aside and thought about the impact he'd had on my life. I'd spent so long focussing on what he said, and what the Watchers were, that I had never really looked at what he did. In fact, as I lay in the darkness with Nightmare, listening to Atticus fixing my kitchen door, I realised that in the time we'd known each other I'd never stopped to appreciate how my life had changed since he came into it. All this time, he'd listened to me, cared for those I loved, given me time to think when I needed it and pushed me to look at the world differently when I thought I knew better. And all I'd done in return was battled against him at every turn.

If actions spoke louder than words, then I'd been deaf to his for too long. But now I heard him, and in the darkness, his actions echoed through my mind. With them I felt my armour crack — a hairline fracture that would never be enough to cause it to crumble, but it was weakened, nonetheless.

After that I had slept soundly until a sliver of daylight woke me up, and the rich smell of coffee roused my appetite.