wcsps
he wakes up with a dead scream imprisoned somewhere underneath his protruding adam’s apple-- and it almost gets out, it almost gets sounded, but the still-sleeping vocal chords are SILENT as opposed to his shrieking mind ( daddy where are you daddy come back daddy where are you ). eyes open, limbs thrash wildly as scott scrambles to escape-- escape what...? he doesn’t even remember-- there’s just panic-- suddenly he realizes he’s in an unfamiliar bedroom, half-sitting on a bed with entangled covers binding his legs and sweat sticking to his skin... nightmare-- he had one of those nightmares again. the one that made his heart pound imbossibly loud, the one that made fight-or-flight instinct go absolutely crazy-- and he can’t even remember what he dreamed about, there are just-- shapes-- a voice-- oh god, he’s going to be sick, his head hurts so bad, he’s going to vomit right on hope’s expensive covers--- HOPE...
his head turns so fast to face her that for a moment it looks like a blur, just a smudge of a murderous migraine and blinding whites of his panicked eyes... he’s not alone, HE’S NOT ALONE, he forgot, just like he forgot that dream-- but he still feels like running, he feels like saying at least fifteen different words, but nothing comes out of his constricted throat--- !!
and all he manages to give hope is a PLEADING LOOK.
