@radiatesmagic said: “shh, it was just a nightmare, you’re safe.” / from here
Jesse had struck a friendship with Candy in the small but alive art community in Alaska. She taught art at a local school and had a nice smile, and as soon as they started talking Jesse knew from the bottom of his heart that he could never, ever tell her about who he was. About the fact he was Jesse to begin with, and not John Driscoll --- he still couldn’t shed his real name, it was the name he had chosen for himself all those years ago ... John wasn’t a choice as much as it was an obligation, the most insipid name he could think of as Ed brought him to Alaska, to try and be as unremarkable as possible despite the myriad scars on his face.
She had stayed the night as they discussed art, him showing her some of his more abstract paintings ( he couldn’t help but think the ones that weren’t so abstract were painfully obvious, like she’d see them and immediately come to the conclusion of his real identity; he knew that was a stupid way to think, but--- ) and of course, of course his brain had decided to give him a nightmare to wake her up with from the other side of the cabin, the shitty guest bedroom he really needed to clean up, make it more cozy.
It was one of the same nightmares of always, a flashback with a few details wrong. He was in the cage but the cage was colder, he was being brought out of the cage to be tortured ( just for fun ! He hadn’t done anything wrong ! ) and among the men of that godforsaken gang Mr. White was there, laughing, watching along.
He shook and sobbed softly as she cooed over him. He was lying to her, lying to everyone but his therapist, escaping his past when his past wasn’t possible to escape from.
“I’m - I’m sorry for waking you,” he choked out as he started to straighten up on his bed, shaking like a leaf.