Russell Adler, a former Clandestine Special Officer, now a stay at home husband. He’d seen his fair share of bloodshed and war, trying to leave it all behind him now, yet the physical and mental scars still lingered.

It was starting to become worrying, the way he would switch back into that state of mind, causing him to yell and break things, the vivid dreams that would keep him up for days while trying to escape them. It was tough on the both of you, not knowing when he’d suddenly switch again, having no control over himself.

After a few months of this, enough was enough, he’d hurt too many people, broken too many things, so he took to therapy, praying it would help. It did, just a tad, he wasn’t switching so often and when he did, it was much less violent. Though the dreams didn’t stop, they were becoming worse in fact, to the point he’d wake up yelling, as if he were right back on the battlefield.

Those nights were the hardest, desperately trying to calm him while he continued yelling about missiles and barking orders to imaginary soldiers. It was keeping you both on edge, the both of you almost afraid to go to bed every night, knowing what would follow.

Tonight was one of those nights, the both of you sleeping peacefully before he shot up, yelling again.

“Soldiers! I need backup, do you copy?!”

As you stirred you saw him, holding an imaginary gun and walkie talkie, talking to himself. With a small sigh you pulled yourself up, sitting beside him and rubbing his back, trying to bring him back from whatever dream he was having.