Guilty Bonds
Chapter 14, Regret
Sweat was coating his entire body, he was writing in fear. There was nothing he could do. Part of him sensed that it was a dream, but he was powerless to wake up. He experienced a disconnected feeling as he tried to move- both in his dream and out. He was seeing it in third person, watching himself shrink in comparison to the looming and familiar figure approaching him.
"Don't!" He cried out, "I was just following orders!"
"Oh? Is that so?" Her voice said. It was cold and accusing. She didn't believe him, and neither did he. He knew he had always had a choice. He chose wrong. No- he chose right... and no matter what it cost him, he would do it again.
In a sprint, he turned the opposite direction than the woman who terrified him most. She followed, like she always did, and he kept running. Just like always.
He was breathing heavily, and he knew he was running out of time. Soon she would catch him and make him suffer the way she suffered. She would break him. She would destroy what was left of him.
He pressed his back to a wall, hoping for a different outcome. Maybe this time she would just kill him.
"Bao, oh Bao? Where could he be? Hiding is pointless. No matter where you go... I'm always there... you know that. And," she was beside him now, whispering to him. She appeared like black smoke, "we'll never go anywhere without each other. Like two peas in a broken pod."
"General...don't." He begged.
"And now you suffer." She said, her hand extending to his throat. He started to scream, fighting the urge to do so in his physical body. His roommate had already complained about his erratic behavior and yelling.
Bao-Dur jerked himself awake, quickly rubbing his face to make sure he was still there. He got up and went to the refresher. His hands were in the middle of lathering when his roommate leaned on the door frame.
"Why do you always do that?"
"What?" He asked, not bothering to stop washing his hands.
"Wash your hands after a bad dream."
"Habit."
"What the hell kind of habit is that?"
"A murderers habit." Bao-Dur answered, hoping to scare the man from asking more questions. He was not in the mood to deal with, explain, or listen to anything more from this man.
"There are things to fix that, ya know."
"Spice is not always the answer. It messes with your mind, makes things worse." Bao-Dur said tiredly. He was just...finished.
"Yeah, I know. Do you want to talk about it?"
"Do you want to die?" Nobody could find out his secret. He couldn't let anyone know. No one could find out because they would ruin everything. He'd been able to lie his way here, but he couldn't let one little dream make him slip up so badly.
"Alright, alright. I can see you don't want to talk about it. But at the very least, take some meds to get some decent sleep." The man went off, waving his hand dismissively and yawning. When he fell asleep almost instantly, Bao-Dur considered what he'd said.
Sleep was tempting. But what if he took the meds, then had a dream anyways? What if the meds only rendered him unable to wake up, forced to suffer in silence without the reprieve of waking up and washing his hands?
No, he couldn't do that. He would take his chances with un-medicated sleep. He didn't need that much sleep anyways.
Bao-Dur sighed and went to tinkering with his toys. It helped his mind a little. Something to do that he had to pat attention to rather than things like target practice. Point, shoot, no brain required. Which was against the idea of not thinking about Malachor.
Before his eyes closed sleepily, he went back and washed his hands one more time for good measure.