Sciamachy
(n.) A battle against imaginary enemies; fighting your own shadow
I woke up to a loud scream. I was covered in sweat and was breathing heavily. As I gathered my wits about me, I realized that the scream was mine. And that I had yet another nightmare. These nightmares...I had not gotten ones like this in a long time. Not since I returned from Somalia almost five years ago.
As I tried to recall what my nightmare was about, I was only able to see small glimpses. Those snippets were enough to send me reeling, though. I saw Tony, dirty and bleeding. Saleem holding a gun to his head and demanding information from me that I did not have. His men, each one on top of me having their turn with me. The whip coming down again and again on both my body and his. The air filling with pain-filled shrieks. Tony watching in horror and struggling against his bonds, trying desperately to reach me. Saleem cruelly smiling at me and then pulling the trigger. Tony crumpling to the ground, a trickle of blood coming out of his mouth, his lifeless eyes meeting mine. My helpless screams.
I shook my head and told myself it was only a dream.
Tony is safe. Saleem and his men are dead. They have been dead for almost five years, ever since Tony and Tim and Gibbs came to Somalia to rescue me. I am safe.
No one would ever hurt me like that again. These nightmares were only my imagination bringing my worst fears to fruition.
And although it was all in my mind, that was the worst part—I was powerless. I was fighting against myself, and although I had won many fights, I know that I would never win this one.
A/N: Thanks for reading! :)