* * *
Clint's dreams were sweet at first, filled with pleasurable occasions with Jessie. Some came from memories, others seemed futuristic. All were pleasing, warm and cozy. But in an instant the scene changed. Clint moaned in despair.
The familiar fist pummeled him upside the head and left him reeling. "No!" he shouted at his stepfather. "You won't get away with this. Mom will find out."
"Shut-up boy. What do you think she can do for you?"
The reality of that statement hit its target like a well-aimed bullet. What would his mother do? Nothing. She would do absolutely nothing the old man wouldn't let her do. Even if it meant leaving her only son to suffer, or die, alone. He was left to his own devices to get out of there before his step-father killed him.
"You're going to the shed. I'll teach you to disobey," the man ground out. He unbuckled his belt. Clint could hear the belt slap against each loop of his pants as it slid around his waist. With one last thwack it came free, ready to do its damage.
Clint tried to lift his arms up, but didn't have strength enough to defend himself. His head boomed in pain with every beat of his heart. Maybe his stepfather would kill him this time and be done with it. Relief filled him at the thought, especially since there was no power left in him to ward off his attacker.
"Clint," he heard. The woman was beautiful, in a white lacy gown. She had a hold on his hand and was pulling, pulling . . .
As she tugged, Clint looked back. His stepfather stood in place, a statue frozen to the ground. His belt was still in his grip and the door to the shed was open behind him. The vision grew smaller and smaller and soon darkened, and then disappeared.
". . . Clint, can you hear me?" The woman's voice grew stronger. They were sitting in deep meadow grasses now, with purple, yellow, and white wildflowers all around. The woman was stroking his head and speaking to him in the most soothing of tones. So restful. The fear left him. Only peace remained. Even the ache in his head seemed to subside.
Then lips, warm and moist, were on his.