That same damn dream happened again. Well, a memory more than anything. Rasmus had come back home from another night of partying after work, as usual, absolutely hammered on alcohol and ready for sleep. But unfortunately his brain planned on reminding him of the past. He could remember every bit clearly. The stale claustrophobic feel of the room. The sting of antiseptic in his nose. The dryness of his mouth. The shake of his hands. The sight of his mom's heart monitor stopping abruptly. The sound of that loud, high pitched beep. And now the tears won't stop flooding. He barely managed to grab the photo of his mom from his jacket with how hard he was sobbing now. But his vision simply got blurrier as he stared at when his mom was healthy. When she didn't get hit by that damn drunk driver. And it was all his fault. He could've just walked home, but no, he had to call her for him to pick him up. His fault she was dead. His fault his dad married that bitch of a woman he says is his stepmother. It was all his fault. And he knew it. His choked whimpers then abruptly stopped when he heard a knock on his bedroom door. Maybe it was his dad. Or that hag wanting him to do something. Whoever it was, he couldn't let them see he was like this.