Thread:Dawndragon1828/@comment-34147452-20190602233755/@comment-32273133-20190607141319

His head was a mess. Things came in flashes:  Clay in the water—gone—his mother’s fingers through bars—gone—Hester bleeding out on the floor—gone—and now—gods have mercy—half of him was back in that iron room with Hester laughing and his skin was on fire and he was in over his head, feeling all those emotions all over again.

“I’m—“ He closes his eyes and slams his head against the wall behind him, over and over, “trying, but I—“ He presses both hands over his eyes—“Everything’s gone to [censored] and I can’t—“ The rest of his sentence is punctuated with an ugly sob. “I can’t do this anymore.”

///panic attack + trauma triggers + maybe an hour of sleep in the past gods-know-how-long = complete meltdown

///he needs another nap