Sleep evaded him, for the fourth night in a row now. He’d always had dreams here and there, often very rare occurrences, but this nightmare was tenacious; unrelenting and exhausting. He’d wake up drenched in a cold sweat, breaths ragged and heavy with his heart nearly slamming out of his chest.

Cases involving kids, it got to everyone on the team cause how could some people be so vile? Hurting innocent kids, something so pure. How could anyone do such things? Normally these cases just bothered him, gave him an unsettled feeling in his stomach, always weighing the odds that they would be too late and couldn’t save another life. But something about the last case had him thrashing at night, tossing and turning until startled awake.

It was no different on the plane ride back. It was a late night flight, a long one too, and — foolish mistake — he let himself fall asleep. The case was over, they’d saved the last kid’s life so, consequently, the dreams should’ve stopped.

30 minutes into sleep, it started again. The same tormenting dream. He tried to snap himself awake but he was anchored into the dream, pulled towards the same terrible visual. He could feel the air leaving his lungs, his throat closing up as his feet unwillingly carried him forward. He could just start to see the body when a pair of hands on his arms brought him to reality.

He woke up, shooting up in his seat with shaky breaths. He ran his hands through his hair and over his eyes, simultaneously trying to get air back into his lungs and slow his heart rate away from a heart attack.