She stood slowly, stepped over to her own grave and sank again to her knees. Reality slipped away, earth and sky whirling into chaos. She reached out, laid her hand on the ground, tried to hang onto the solidity of the earth. But the soil dissolved. Her hand sank into a cold, clinging wetness that drew her downward, sucking the breath from her lungs. She pushed upward, but she was too heavy. Leaden skirts trapped her legs. She flailed her arms in vain.... “Analise!” The word reached her as if from far away. Strong arms pinned hers, pulled her upward, free of the grip of the suffocating cold. She felt firm solidity—a denim jacket, a cotton shirt, a wide chest. She hung on for dear life, for sanity. Gradually the world stabilized, and she realized she was crying. Dylan held her, stroked her hair. It felt distressingly good. Just as he’d had the strength to overpower her the night before, that strength now reassured her, gave her something to hold on to.
