Dawn of Eve - MJ Howson (read full novel .txt) 📗

the nightmares that had recently haunted her would stay away. How she so desperately needed a peaceful night’s rest. Dawn quickly fell asleep. At some point, her dream, her nightmare, began to consume her thoughts.

Dressed in a flowing red gown, Dawn found herself running barefoot down a dirt-covered passageway. Her movements felt smooth and elastic, yet somehow slow and difficult. The white stone arches surrounding her were aged and weathered. A young girl, who Dawn was convinced was her daughter, was running away from her. The five-year-old was the spitting image of Dawn at that age. The child’s giggling echoed everywhere. Her black hair, pulled back in a ponytail, bounced against a red robe as she raced down the endless corridor.

“Stop, Eve!” Dawn cried out. She felt herself slowly gaining on the young girl. Dawn reached for her daughter, her hands elongating to close the gap between them. Her bright red nails became pointy the closer she got. “Don’t leave me!”

The young girl’s laughter stopped. The pounding of Dawn’s footsteps, and her heart, began a rhythmic beat. The child looked back over her shoulder at Dawn. Her ice-blue eyes were filled with terror. Dawn felt herself inching ever closer to the girl. Her fingers grew even longer, finally scraping against the back of the girl’s head. Just as Dawn’s claw-like nails dug into her shoulder, the young child turned and cried, “Mom! No!”

Dawn screamed herself free and awoke from her nightmare. Her sweat-covered body heaved as she gasped for air. The first thing Dawn noticed when she opened her eyes was the time projected on the ceiling–11:55 p.m. She looked around the room, her heart pounding in her chest.

“Why can’t I stop these dreams?” Dawn raised her hands to cover her eyes and started to sob uncontrollably. “When will they end?”

Five

Trainer

Power Fitness Gym, located several blocks from Jacob’s apartment in Jersey City, had its usual early morning weekday members shuffling about. Roughly two dozen people lined up before the doors opened to get their workout in ahead of their workday. Half were sweating it out on the cardio deck, while the rest were scattered between the fitness machines and free weights. Hip hop music thumped from the speakers, interrupted by the occasional clang of a barbell hitting a rack.

Jacob had memberships in half a dozen gyms in Manhattan and Jersey. The fees for these were, by far, his biggest monthly expense. Jacob had tried to negotiate discount rates with the gym managers, explaining he helped promote them by training clients there. None took him up on his offer. In fact, a few had outright banned him, telling him only trainers employed by the gym could train their members. The NYC-based gyms were the most expensive ones, but they also had higher-paying clients.

His five o’clock appointment was Megan, a very fit twenty-four-year-old lawyer. She always kept her chestnut hair pulled back in a ponytail, despite it often getting in the way of the exercises. Jacob admired her focus and dedication but felt let down by her lack of confidence. She’d signed up for six sessions with Jacob last month, and this was her final one.

The two were standing near a row of power racks along the back wall of the gym. The eight-foot-tall steel racks could be used for various barbell power exercises, including squats and deadlifts. Donned in her usual blue and yellow gym gear, Megan struggled to steady the barbell resting against her thighs.

“You’ve got this,” Jacob said. He was standing directly behind Megan as she did her deadlifts. Jacob always kept within inches of his clients, mirroring their moves whenever possible. “That’s it.” Jacob stepped closer as Megan squatted toward the ground, holding the barbell close to her knees. “One more. Push hard.”

Megan groaned as she powered through the final rep, standing upright and pulling her shoulders back. She looked over her shoulder at Jacob towering above her. Megan smiled and said, “I think that’s a record.”

“It is,” Jacob replied. “A personal best.” Jacob quickly helped Megan place the barbell on the nearby rack. “It’s all about pushing yourself beyond your limits.”

“Was that it? Are we done?”

“One more. Chest press.”

“Oh, right. Shit.”

Megan sighed and flicked her hair back. She grabbed her water bottle and took a long chug.

Jacob led Megan to a standalone bench. His skin-tight red tank top caught the attention of several members as he passed them by. Jacob grabbed a bottle of sanitizer and a handful of paper towels and wiped the bench down. When finished, he glanced at the closest mirror, tilting his head to see how the harsh white overhead lighting reflected off his scar.

“You keep everything so clean.” Megan smiled as she got into position on the bench. “Such a gentleman.”

“Always.” Jacob passed her two twenty-pound dumbbells. “Just like last time.”

Jacob positioned himself in a squat position, keeping his thighs close to Megan’s face. He kept focused on her form, but out of the corner of his eye, he could see her glance between her weights and his inner thigh. Jacob had zero attraction to Megan. Her overuse of perfume was just one of several turn-offs. But he was well aware of the teasing game he had to play to retain and expand his clients.

As Megan went through her routine, Jacob tried to ignore the intermittent buzzing coming from his phone in his pocket. He regretted not leaving it in his backpack.

“Three more, Megan.” Jacob leaned forward and placed his palms an inch below Megan’s elbows. He mirrored her movements as she pressed the dumbbells up and over her chest. “Breathe.” Jacob took deep breaths in and out to encourage Megan, trying his best not to choke on her scent. “Keep pushing.”

Megan groaned as she completed her ninth rep. Spit flew from her mouth, and she said, “I’m done.”

“One more.”

Megan shook her head but did as told and pushed out one final rep. Her arms wobbled toward the end. Jacob swooped in and collected both dumbbells from