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His father, grinning through bloodstained teeth. The box, slowly opening to reveal his sister. A knife, stabbing into flesh again and again and again. His own face, as he just laughs …
Malcolm jolts awake, chest heaving. A dark figure looms over him. Malcolm scrambles back on his bed, restraints yanking at his wrists. He quickly removes them, but not quite fast enough. A hand reaches towards his face and he violently flinches back. All he can hear is his panting and the loud thump of his heartbeat.
Come on, Malcolm, breathe. Just breathe. He’s not here, he can’t be.
He blinks rapidly and Gil’s face slowly comes into focus. He is perched on the side of the bed, hands laying clasped in his lap. “You with me now, kid?” he asks softly.
Malcolm just nods his head, not yet ready for words again.
Gil smiles. “Good, that’s very good. Now, all we are going to do is sit here for a while. No need to try to say anything, just concentrate on your breathing. I’ll keep watch. You’re safe here, son.”
They just sit there for what has to be at least half an hour. Slowly, oh so slowly, Malcolm is able to ground himself in his body. That was a particularly nasty nightmare. He is somewhat used to them by now but they seem to have been getting worse lately. His job? His father? Something else he isn’t seeing? He doesn’t know. But it’s not like he can do much about them. Therapy never helped his nightmares and all of the so-called “cures” for them are useless. He knows; he's tried them all.
Malcolm eventually breaks the silence. “I … I think I’m alright now.” He takes a deep swig of the water from his nightstand. His throat feels like sandpaper. All the screaming, probably.
“Was it your father again?”
Malcolm just winces and then nods. “Yeah. And more. But I can’t …”
Gil holds up a hand. “You don’t have to explain it to me. But know you always can if you want.”
Malcolm sighs. “I know. And I’m sorry for waking you up, Gil. I know that you are already stressed about the case and I don’t want you to have to deal with my nightmares on top of that.”
Gil’s face softens. “Malcolm, you never need to apologise to me for that. It’s my choice to be here.”
“But - ”
“No buts. You’re my kid, Malcolm. All of this just comes with the territory.”