Ah I don't know what this is, so don't ask.
Has the patient suffered any of the following conditions?
14. Nightmares [X] Yes [_] No
Blood. Everywhere. It was all over his clothes, his hands, the walls. No, not walls... Trees. Snow.
He'd just killed men—a lot of men. Their bodies piled around him, somehow already in various stages of decay. Maggots crawled out of the snow, foul liquids in turn stained it black; bones jutted out from under tattered grey coats already soaked with more blood.
The scene jumped, and suddenly he was sitting at a computer, doing what he enjoyed most—research. He dug for weeks, and finally uncovered all he needed to know. After changing his mind dozens of times, he eventually settled the matter with himself: This information was going on WikiLeaks.
What? I didn't do that... Or did I?
The screen shattered in front of his eyes and he was once again in a dark room (When was I in a dark room?), a weapon clutched in his clean hands. But it wasn't normally a weapon, was it? It was normally a tool. He'd perverted it. Just like he'd perverted everything else he seemed to come in contact with.
He sunk it deep into his wrist (Why?!) and watched the blood. A blonde woman appeared, panicked. She begged him to stop, so he stabbed her in the stomach.
Okay, now that definitely didn't happen... Or...
The blood disappeared, all of it. The object in his hand stayed the same, though, and now he was back at the desk. He took the weapon...
And brought it to paper, writing with crimson ink.
ESCAPE.
Mere miles away from each other, Clay Kaczmarek and Shaun Hastings awoke in a cold sweat, both having just experienced the same nightmare.