'You can only sleep when you're dead.'
He had never understood that phrase. Loving his siesta time, sleep was as valuable to him as breathing.
Now, though, his life and the lives of his friends were wrapped around him obeying that phrase.
His brown eyes remained wide open, his gaze darting around the room with watchful wariness.
He did not care that the place was locked tight and the Thing could, supposedly, never find them; he no longer laid trust in anyone or anything but himself. He had to get them out of here, and to do so, he must do everything in his power to make things go perfectly.
Including not sleeping.
If he fell asleep, they would be vulnerable to the Thing. He must be alert at all times, ready to combat the Thing and drive it back, away from his friends. He must never let his heavy eyelids fall.
He does not let the others know about his sleepless nights; too many questions would arise. Questions he could not answer, for the sake of their safety.
And then, undoubtedly, they'd try to force him to sleep.
If he slept, they would die. He did not want that to happen again. He never wanted it to happen again.
How many times had it been now? How many times had they painted his world crimson with the tidal wave of their blood?
He rolls over onto his side, staring at the door. He half expects it to burst open, the Thing barging in and ripping them to shreds.
It doesn't, though. The fortress remains secure, with them inside and the Thing prowling around outside.
They might actually be safe for now.
Still, he cannot sleep. His body might be safe in this room, but his memories are not. Whenever he falls asleep, for he has stupidly done so before, his memories start to slip through his fingers like grains of sand. He cannot afford that; he has to remember everything that happened before. He has to remember what mistakes to avoid and what things must be done. He has to succeed. He has to.
So he keeps his eyes open, using any tactic he can to keep himself alert. He barricades himself not just from the Thing, but from the sleep that yearns to unite with him. He pushes off its advances, welcoming the hell that is reality to the comfort of his dreams.
For if he gives in to the temptation, his memories will fade. His shields will go down. Mistakes will be made.
And they will die.