You gasp in shock, looking at your bleeding shoulder, only beginning to contemplate how lucky it was that you had chosen to hide in the nook of the closet that extended to the side. Clearly no one had known about it. You can hear mom struggling on the other side of the door, then more gunshots as your closet is destroyed by weaponry. You flatten yourself against the side of the closet, closing your eyes and wondering if you were going to die.

Your ears were ringing, unable to hear the screams, or the yells, and soon after you were practically deaf to the gunshots. It was a miracle that no others hit you, except one that chipped away at the side of your shoe, barely missing your foot.

Through the vibrations of the floor you could hear many of them leaving, and you were terrified, too afraid to move. Minutes passed, and slowly your hearing returned, though sounds manifested themselves distantly, as if you were outside eavesdropping.

"Check the body." A man's voice, then footsteps leaving his room. A groan, and you knew someone was coming closer, causing you to tremble. A foot kicked the door in, wood shavings crumbling to the ground, the knob hitting the floor with a ringing metallic thud.

You could say nothing as a man's face peeked in, long red hair hanging limp over his shoulders, his face decorated with an eye patch. He caught sight of you within seconds, eyebrows rising, and a cigarette you hadn't seen until now almost falling from his lips.

"Kid, what th'fuck are you doing here?" He hissed, your voice remaining unused, blood soaked through your shirtsleeve. The redhead groaned again, clutching his forehead with one hand and looking behind him quickly, as if unsure what to do with his discovery. You thought for sure that he would shoot you on sight, but obviously something was stopping him.

"You know I have to kill you now, right, kid?" He whispered, "'Cept I don't have any bullets left. And stranglin' someone is messy work." You were confused. What was keeping him from doing his job? "It'd be easier, though, if I could just tell 'em that there was no one here in the first place. Wouldn't make sense, unless," He stared at him with meaning, "Unless there really was no one here."

"Aren't you supposed to kill me?" Your voice finally found its way back onto your tongue, but the movement felt foreign.

"You don't look like Victor to me."

You sat there, eyes wide, muscles twitching. Your shoulder began to scream with pain, and you gasped, making to clutch it but the man stopped you, grabbing your hand.

"Don't touch that, I guarantee you you'll regret it. Now are you gonna get the fuck outta here, or what?" He yanked you up until you were standing; dazed, confused at how you could even stand so squarely on your feet.

"Mom…" You mutter, and he shakes his head.

"Don't go looking for her, now. It'll just undo everything I'm doing and you'll wind up dead. I'm gonna say this one last time—get the fuck out."

It wasn't far down the fire escape, and looking up you weren't sure how you had gotten there. But when you realized that no one was around, no one was following you, and the only person you could see was the redheaded man in the window…

You ran.

Zexion woke up, out of breath, his shoulder stinging as if the wound was fresh. It was dark out, the clock blaring 6:30 am. He shrugged inwardly; it was as good a time as any, he supposed, to be up. Sliding out of bed he wondered how his dream had played out the memory for so long. He had forgotten that he was in shock, really—he had forgotten most of what had happened after the barrage of gunshots to his closet, destroying all of his clothing and many other things inside.

This morning he didn't feel much like a shower, still bothered by what had happened yesterday in philosophy, feeling a bit unstable on his feet as he wandered into the kitchen. To his surprise Axel was there, looking up at him over a cup of coffee, his red hair almost the exact shade of the man in his dream.

"Hey, Zexion!" He smiled, though his eyebrows drew closer together as he saw how miserable he looked. "What's going on, kiddo?"

"I need to talk to you about something, Axel…" He hoisted himself up onto a stool on the other side of the kitchen counter, facing Axel and brushing his fingers through his hair. "Roxas said I should…I think he's right."

"Yeah? I'm all ears." Axel shifted forward, sliding his mug of coffee to the side and leaning onto the counter.

"I'm having a hard time…lately…with some stuff that keeps coming up." He frowned as he tried to get his thoughts straight, shaking his head and suddenly wishing that he hadn't brought it up. "I've had a couple dreams, of some stuff that's happened. A lot of stuff I forgot."

"You mean when you were shot?"

"Yeah. It only grazed me though." Zexion corrected, though knowing that it really didn't matter. "And yesterday in philosophy I got pissed off at the teacher. At some stuff she said about victims…I don't know. It freaked me out though."

"I see." Axel folded his hands, looking serious, an expression that didn't suit him well when knowing that no wry grin was to follow.

"Everything's catching up to me, you know? I thought I was going to be fine when I came here, but apparently my mind thinks I should relive everything. Or at least the parts that I want to forget about." Zexion couldn't understand why he didn't feel like he felt in his dreams, his shock only coming in bursts apparently—like in class. He rubbed his forehead.

"I'm glad you told me, Zexion." Axel reassured him, "I think I know what's happening to you...all of that stuff kind of happened all at once, right?" Zexion nodded. "You haven't had enough time to cope with it, and you're just trying to figure out how to do it while adjusting to life here."

"Sounds right…" Zexion muttered. What Axel said did make perfect sense. He must still have a bit of shock still to deal with. "It's getting a little hard. At first everything felt perfectly normal, but now it's like every time something happens, I start forgetting about the things I've been enjoying about living here." Axel nodded, stroking his chin.

"Why don't you take the day off, Zexion? I'll call you in, Roxas and Demyx can bring you the homework. It'll be good for you." Axel stood, drinking the rest of his coffee and putting the mug in the sink. "You said you were all caught up last week, I'm sure you could miss a day and be fine."

"Yeah…I think I will." Zexion wouldn't have normally done it, but he felt too exhausted to entertain himself with the idea of actually dragging his feet to school only to stave off falling asleep on his desk for the majority of the day.

"Wanna go back to bed?"

"Not really…" Zexion studied the minute cracks in the tiles on the counter. "I'll wait till later when the dream isn't gonna happen again." He pushed away from the counter and grabbed the blanket on the couch, wrapping it around himself and sitting in front of the TV and turning it on. The sounds were nice to hear, Zexion calmed at having something else to think about, not really sure how to deal with his memories quite yet.

Behind him Axel cleaned up a bit and got ready for work, the noise of routine soothing, and by the time Axel had left the apartment Zexion had fallen asleep with his head on the arm of the couch.