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He woke again jolting into an upright position, muscles tense, sweat pouring off him in buckets, it was another nightmare. How long could Gordon stand these constant horrific dreams? It had been a few months since everything. He had moved on, everyone else had moved on fine. Why did he still have these nightmares? Often they forced him back, vividly replaying the knives that served his hand or the final fight.
Gordon took a few deep breaths, he needed to calm down and try to get more sleep, needed the last little amount he could get yet it seemed like he wouldn’t be able to rest peacefully. Checking the time he soon found out that he had about three hours before he really needed to get up so he chose to get out of bed instead of fight a losing battle. He could take this time to relax, maybe get some comfort food and watch any early morning programs, the kind that somehow became a safe place from his unsavory wake ups.
Still, he couldn’t get his mind off the problems. They glared at him, dug deep claws into him keeping him trapped in an endless cycle. Often he told himself they’d go away, he’d be free from their clutches, but how long would that take? He couldn’t stand it. He needed to get everything off his chest. Before, he thought about the idea of getting a therapist, opening up to a brand new person about everything that haunted him through the nights, but for some reason he continued to push it off. Instead, Gordon picked up his phone and messaged Tommy, asking if they could met up sometime, vaguely explaining why he needed this. It was best to send a message. Most likely Tommy was sleeping and if Gordon woke him up to suffer with him, he would be eaten alive by the guilt. All he could do now was to wait.