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He woke in darkness.

The awful stench of sweat and fear invaded his nose and he already felt his stomach turn. The basement was plastered with mold and shadows. He remembered hiding in those shadows when the monsters came down. His heart was beating too fast and he closed his eyes and shook his head.

“No,” he muttered.

“It’s alright, Brian, go on,” somebody said and he drew a shaky breath before he reopened his eyes. He stared intently at the red stains on the floor and nearly threw up when he saw him.

“No,” he cried.

“Brian, you are safe here, just tell me what is going on,” the voice said again and Brian felt his entire body tense up.

“He’s here,” he whispered.

“Who is it?”

“Thommy,” Brian breathed as Thomas Fenn stepped into the small beam of light that came from the open door. Thomas flashed him a sad smile, his chest smeared with blood and Brian remembered stubbornly pressing his hands onto the wound, despite knowing it was already far too late.

“He can’t hurt you, Brian,” the bodiless voice swam in his head.

“He wouldn’t,” Brian whispered. Thomas looked at him while pointing to the open door.

“You can leave, Brian,” he said.

“Come with me,” Brian choked out.

“You know I can’t,” the olive skinned boy said. Brian noticed the red stain on his chest growing and growing and watched silently as Thomas collapsed. He closed his eyes again, but not before he caught a glimpse of Thomas’ body turning into Nick’s.

“No!” he screamed.

“Alright Brian, let’s stop it there,” the voice in his head said calmly and then he was back.

Doctor Mellory Phillips looked at him with creased eyebrows. Brian felt the sweat sliding down his forehead as he sat up from the sofa. “I’m sorry I yelled,” he muttered.

“That’s perfectly alright,” the psychiatrist said. “Do you think about Thomas Fenn a lot?”

Brian nodded slowly, rubbing his face as he tried to get the image of a dead body out of his mind.

“Does he appear in your dreams too?”

Brian nodded again. “It’s... it’s different though. I-I can’t explain it.”

“We have time. You can say anything here, you know that.”

“I can’t,” Brian grunted.

“That’s alright. We don’t have to talk about the dreams yet, if you are not ready.”

“Thanks.”

“Anything else you’d like to tell me?”

“I don’t know,” Brian sighed, not looking at his hands, “I had a seizure yesterday. At work.”

Doctor Phillips nodded, “you are working again?”

“Just recording some stuff. I think I freaked everybody out though.”

“How did that make you feel?”

Brian snorted, “What do you think? Embarrassed, anxious, stressed out, you can choose.”

“Was there anything that set it off?”

He shrugged, biting his lip, “I haven’t really been sleeping well at all, lately. But you know that. I just... what if it happens randomly on stage? Or on TV, dear God. You know, with all those lights flashing on and off and stuff. What if I can’t perform at all?”

“Does that worry you?”

“Of course it worries me.”

“I understand. But you know the added stress makes you even more vulnerable to seizures and nightmares.”

Brian nodded; then scoffed, “Yeah. But I’m sorry, I can’t just turn my mind on and off.”

“If everybody could just do that, I wouldn’t have a job, I fear,” Doctor Phillips smiled warmly and Brian felt a smile appear on his face as well. The psychiatrist had a calming effect on him and he was grateful for that. She was kind and honest and did not judge him for anything he told her. Soon, he thought, he would tell her about the dreams.

When the session ended he got up with a sigh, nudging his dog awake. Bonnie looked up at him sleepily, with what he thought was quite the annoyed expression. He smiled at her and she stood up, stretching. After a quick goodbye, Brian and Bonnie were on their way home. He would return again in just two days. The intensive therapy was scheduled three times a week and Brian finally felt like it was doing him some good. He felt calmer, more confident as he walked with Bonnie through the streets. Sure, it was quiet today, on a saturday morning. And it was cold too. He shivered as he shoved his bare hands into his pockets. He should have definitely brought gloves, like his wife had suggested.

“But no, you are too stubborn to listen to her.”

He jumped; the voice seemed to come from nowhere and he swallowed. Bonnie looked at him questioningly, as if asking why they had suddenly stopped walking. Brian clenched his teeth and closed his eyes, counting to five before he started walking again. He felt on edge though, as if he was being followed. Was he just getting paranoid on top of all things?

After they got home, Brian stood in front of the mirror in the bathroom for a long while. His eyes were bloodshot, he noticed and he sighed. A good night’s sleep was long past due. He knew he could forget about that though. His left shoulder was throbbing; a familiar pain and courtesy of the cold weather, he presumed. The joint had never fully healed and with a grunt, Brian opened the medicine cabinet and peeked inside. There were a lot of pills there, far too many for Brian’s liking. He glared at the diazepam, which was supposed to keep his seizures at bay, but it hadn’t done a fantastic job yesterday, had it? Grumbling, he swallowed one of them, making a face as they slid down his throat. There were more pills even, sedatives, mostly. They were supposed to keep him calm and focused, but lately Brian felt like they just made him tired and listless. He wanted a clear, healthy mind, not a numb, lifeless version.

“I do think it’s nice that you still think about me,” Brian looked up and saw a glimpse of the boy in the mirror. He swirled around, his heart leaping into his throat. There was nobody there, but Brian stood nailed to the ground, a shiver traveling up his spine that had nothing to do with the cold outside. His fingers curled around the bottle of sedatives, the lid slipping off and its contents spilling onto the bathroom floor.

“Who are you?” he whispered.

“You know who I am,” the voice answered, annoyed.

“You’re dead,” Brian breathed, his hands shaking and the remainder of the pills falling out of the bottle.

“I’m not dead,” Thomas answered sternly, “or, well, I am. What does it matter?”

“Why are you here?” Brian heard his voice tremble and took a shaky breath.

“Relax, I’m not a ghost or anything,” Thomas Fenn smiled as he stepped through the door. He looked like he had when Brian had first seen him. The naive, confident young man that was absolutely convinced that his college friends were playing a horrifying practical joke on him. His clothes were unstained and the bullet wounds in his back and his chest were nowhere to be found. Like they were never there. His grey eyes flashed with a stubborn bravado that Brian had admired. He stared at the pills on the floor.

“Am I dreaming?”

“I don’t know,” Thomas replied, “You should totally pinch yourself to find out.”

“I’m not pinching myself,” Brian said.

“Fine,” Thomas shrugged. “Why are we in the bathroom?”

Brian clenched his jaw, turning around to look in the mirror. His own, as well as Thomas’ reflection stared back at him. Brian closed his eyes and counted to ten, but Thomas was still there. “You know that is never going to work, right?” the young man sighed.

Brian didn’t answer as he walked straight towards the door and out of the bathroom. He shrugged on his jacket, called his dog over and did not forget his gloves this time. They headed out of the house, into the backyard and Brian hurriedly sat down by the pond, clutching Nick’s torn baseball cap in his hands. The cap held a lot of bad memories, but it always could make him realize what was real and what was not real and Brian sighed when after fifteen minutes, still no Thomas had followed him out of the house.

He’d known PTSD could cause hallucinations, had been warned about them quite a few times, but he’d never imagined them to feel so real. He shivered, his fingers playing with Bonnie’s fur as he put his right arm around her, still holding the baseball cap in his left hand. Bonnie put her head on his leg and looked up at him, calmly waiting. He smiled slightly, “Let’s go back,” he mumbled and stood up stiffly. Bonnie jumped off of the bench without question, already heading towards the house. Brian followed her slowly, all the while doing his best to ignore the staring eyes he felt burning into his back.