Sick

The horrific images continue to bombard Jason's mind as he writhes in both the emotional and physical torture he was being put through. He'd been through this so many times before, but no matter how severe, long or brief, no attack was easy.

Jason screams as he's hit again, his throat going hoarse from his cries to anyone who might hear. He's grabbed again, and like every time, he is dragged toward that room. Kicking and screaming did no good. He hurt, he wanted his mom, he just wanted out of here. And there was no hope. There was no light. It was fading. It had been too long. No one was coming.

As Katie's hand finds his, he holds her in a vice grip, latching on to the only thing tangible that his mind registered as something real...something from reality and not his nightmare. But the attack still has to run its course, the emotions spilling over. Though the emotions had somewhere to flow...they had someone to draw them out rather than letting them torment Jason to a dangerous level.

Alone. Dark. Musty. The room was the place of torture. The room was the only world to this little boy's mind now. No hope. Pain. He just wanted it over. As a child, he wished himself dead to escape this world he'd been brutally dragged into. But suddenly there was a light. A soft glow. Far away...and a voice....a soft sweet voice, beckoning him out.

Jason had no clue that a half hour had passed. No sense of time ever remained during an attack. The shadows slowly begin to lift, like a fog dispersing before the morning sun. He was drained of all heightened emotions. They had erupted in order to settle once more until the next time. Now all that remained was a dull ache and the physical aftermath.

Jason is finally able to pry open his own eyes. He was cold, drenched in sweat. He felt arms around him...the arms that had always made him feel safe. He had Katie's hand in his, and suddenly realizes how hard he was gripping it. Almost unable to move the muscles, he flexes his fingers, loosening them, on a certain level, worried that he'd hurt her.

Swallowing hard, he just lies still, moving a little, slowly, slowly stretching out from his tight position. Every muscle in his body hurt, and he felt as though he'd been hit by a mac truck. Part of his mind wanted to think through what had just happened, and work through the reasoning as to why Katie was there, and how he felt about that, and where they stood...but it was just too much right now. I'm sorry, Katie.

His pulse finally calming down, his stomach churns, warning him of the next stage. He'd gotten upset on a full stomach, and his supper wasn't going to stay down.

He manages to get himself on his hands and knees, next to Katie, but he's still shaking too much to do anything on his own, and even talking out loud takes too much effort.

An embarrassment surfaces. It wasn't logical, but it was there. This was the time he was most vulnerable. Unless you want to be part of this mess, help me down the hall.