The nightmare woke him at night.
Eric lurched awake gasping for air, eyes wild, drenched in sweat. It took him a moment to place where he was and he struggled to breathe. Sucked in deep calming breaths and fought to reclaim control.
In. Out. In. Out.
He forced his heart rate to slow, his breathing to even out, and clamped down tightly on the dark suffocating pit of guilt, of impotence, of rage and fury and loathing that the nightmare reawakened in him; that would have slowly choked the life out of him and was robbing him of his mind.
In. Out. In. Out.
Control.
Eric's breaths evened out, and his heart rate slowed. The madness left his eyes and he got up and walked to a series of shelves on one of the walls. He reached into a cardboard box, worn from much use, and pulled out rolling paper and a heap of the pungent cured leaves favored by the locals.
The aromatic smell of burning tobacco soon filled the air.
It was twenty minutes later that he accepted that he wasn't going to be able to get any more sleep. He moved mechanically, with motions seared into him by routine; shoving his feet into track shoes and headed out the door, where he broke into a practiced run, paying no heed to the light drizzle, nor the slight bite in the chilly night air.
Eric looked down at the box in his hands. It had been a good day.
His class had really learnt something today. And he had managed three days of dreamless sleep before the nightmare woke him on the fourth night. Mail had come today, and he had received another Jackie Box.
All in all, a good day.
He opened it in the privacy of his hut, and smiled at the three pictures she had sent him of her. They were clipped together with a yellow note with the word 'Choose!' scribbled on it. She wanted his opinion on an outfit for a big day at work the following week.
She had also put together a notebook filled with newspaper clippings and headlines. Very thoughtful of her, since he was cut off from the world. He pulled out a small box of something else with a note taped to the outside.
Camomile tea bags. She had written. Cos I get the feeling that you've a lot on your mind. Drink up and relax!
He ran a finger gently over her smiling face in all three pictures, struck by her vivid beauty. As he had written her before, she featured a great deal in his thoughts of late. A rose among the ugly thorns that was who he was inside now.
She was… Pure. Good. Light.
And she made him remember what it was like to smile.