To Be Struck

As soon as Emily jumped out of bed, she was stopped. A man stretched out his long arm and carried her into his arms. He gently caressed the back of her head with his big palm. From his voice, Emily didn't know how he felt, "You okay now?"

The dagger fell to the ground with a clatter of metal.

Emily's nose was filled with the smell of blood. She had just come back to life from her nightmare. But she kept trembling, with her back and forehead covering in a cold sweat. The man's embrace was broad and warm. A faint nicotine smell went into Emily's nose, sweeping away all her fears and anxiety.

"Mr. Vincent." She said softly, her voice a little hoarse, "Did I stab you?"

Ever since she was reborn into this world, she had always put a knife under her pillow every night before she went to bed in case anything unexpected happened. Even if she slept over, she would definitely carry a dagger in her bag for defense.