The Criminal

Ch. 20: You can't say that to me. You're my therapist.

I wake up greeted by darkness, surrounded by sheets that smell like peppermint. It takes me a while to realise where I am and that my brutal wakeup call was down to screams taking place in my dream, not in real life. Hunter's bed is comfortable as I sink back into his mattress, duvet engulfing me. I close my eyes and am moments away from dropping off when I hear him yell. I practically leap for the bed and run to him, desperate to assist. His shouting continues, each one growing in intensity the closer I get. I prepare myself for battle. I expect to see either Lowes of Murphy in the living room—perhaps holding a gun—but when I arrive, it's just Hunter. He's still asleep on the sofa, thrashing around in an attempt to detangle himself from the one sheet covering him. I rush over, his skin scorching hot and covered in sweat. His face pulls together in what looks to be an expression of excruciating pain.

"Hunter."

I don't want to smother him, so I place my hands on either shoulder, and try to gently shake him awake.

"Hunter, wake up," I soothe.

"I'm trapped!" he shouts, still lock in whatever nightmare he's having. "Help! I'm trapped!"

"Hunter!"

His eyes burst open as he gasps, desperately sucking air into his lungs. His gorgeous turquoise gaze meets mine in a plea, fear and confusion dominant emotions.

"You were having a nightmare," I explain, pressing my hand to his forehead.

He's sweaty from all the wiggling around.

"You're safe now," I tell him.

He stares blankly ahead, totally unresponsive. I've seen this kind of reaction many times before. Hunter has gone into shock and whatever terrors were plaguing him in his nightmares have carried over into his reality.

"Hunter, can you look at me?" I ask, tone soft.

Nothing.

"Squeeze my hand."

His fingers remain limp, gaze fixated on the wall behind my head. He appears stuck in a trance, his breathing heavy.

"Come with me," I coax, carefully pulling him to his feet.

The sheet falls away, revealing his body to me. He's wearing black boxers, the rest of him naked and shimmering in sweat from his night terror.

"Let's get you in the shower," I suggest, walking him slowly towards the stairs.

We eventually make it to his bathroom, and I quickly turn on the shower's water and set the temperature to freezing cold. I need something to shock him out of his trance. To rewire whatever damage that dream did to him.

"You're okay," I encourage, guiding him under the water's spray.

The moment his brain registers the cold water, he jolts out of his daze. His back is to me as he braces himself on the tiles ahead of him and starts to sob, inconsolable. It's unexpected and fucking heart breaking in equal measures. I watch him for a moment, angels wings expanding with his ribs the harder he cries. Each sound is a blow to the stomach and before I can stop myself, I remove the shirt I borrowed from Hunter's closet earlier and strip down to my underwear. I then step into the shower with him, the freezing water piercing my skin.

"You're okay," I say, easing myself between the wall and him.

My face is practically in front of his, taking in every ounce of pain he's experiencing. His cheeks are so pale and his body, shaking from the cold. I turn the temperature up and as the cold water turns warm, I wrap my arms around his neck and encourage his head to rest on my shoulder. There, we remain for the longest time, his sobs subsiding after what feels like twenty minutes. I eventually shut off the shower altogether and let the sound of water dripping from our bodies comfort us.