I wake up screaming, sweaty, tangled up in the sheets. Fuck. I thought they were done . . . despite my warning to Sean, I hadn't had any the entire time we were together for Christmas. But this one was different, and I curse the utter predictability of my psyche. This time when that fanboy lifted the iron bar up to bash my head in, he changed into Dylan just when my sword connected with his throat.
Don't know what the fuck to do. Someone pounds on my door, asking if I'm all right. "Nightmare!" I yell and they go away, cause I'm bloody sure that just about everybody's sleeping poorly tonight. No one here I can talk to about it, no one I can tell that seeing Dylan like that brought back my most horrific memories.
Shaking and sweating, I get a glass of water from the bathroom, trying to calm down, but knowing I'll never get back to sleep tonight, knowing that every time I close my eyes, I'll see nothing but visions of gruesome death. Fuck, I can't go back into that hole again. Can't.
The clock says that it's just a little after midnight. Feels a hell of a lot later. I sit on the bed, drawing my knees up and staring at my cell phone on top of the telly.
my door's always open, all right?( I need you. )![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
