its PTSD Awareness Day

Even without a body, Ethan felt like dropping to his knees, like the floor had given out under him. His little girl was amazing. She was all grown up; tall, with long, straight hair under a baseball cap..and the jacket he had given her sixteen years ago. His emotions, the only thing he could currently feel in this dream state, were running wild. Joy, sorrow, fear, anger; they all swirled heavily within him.

She needed to run, to get out of there. But she was as stubborn as her old man. Of course, Rose didn't know it was Ethan guiding her. Not that it would change anything. Rose figuring out that Michael was really Ethan wouldn't stop her. He had no right to demand anything of her, and she had no obligation to listen. He hadn't been there for her at any time in her life but now, and despite the dire situation, it was nowhere near enough. And besides that, with the limited communication between them, he could keep his identity a secret forever. All he had were his words, no face or mouth, no hand gestures. He was a blank slate for her to put her trust in, at least for a little while.

He could be that for her. Just this once.

Yet, even with this line of thinking, he could feel himself slowly breaking. The blood. There was so much blood. So much carnage. Why the Duke? What had the man ever done to deserve to become such an abomination? Why had his dreams turned the Duke into such a nightmare? His only solace in the midst of the village..had also, somehow, become tainted. His only fond memories of that time, dirtied.

And Rose. Her screams.. His head felt like it was going to split open. At times, the shrieking felt as if it would never stop. He could hear them even after he'd woken up. It was beyond horrible. Beyond anything he'd heard before. It was as if Rose was getting her heart torn out. Her high pitched voice haunted him. Whenever he saw her next, he could hardly believe his eyes. He wondered if this, too, was only a dream. If this Rose wasn't actually real, but once more just another figment of his imagination.

Ethan was both relieved and dismayed that it very much was her, when he saw her the next night. Time is different between the two of them. Entire days pass, but it's only a few minutes for her, if maybe an hour or so. Last night, he left her while she was running from the Duke and his monsters. She ran into a room, and found the entrance way with the doors wide open. The fog was heavy outside, the sky as white as the snow on the ground. She ran for it, relieved, thanking God, her heart bursting out of her chest.

Ethan could only watch from some distant place as the gate slammed shut in front of her, and the coagulation of dark, chunky blood rose from the floorboards, almost instantly sucking Rosemary in. His little girl was quick, though. She backed up and turned around, cursing loudly and retreating. As she reached the stairs, Ethan tried to reach out to her.

In Danger, he said. Need.. He scanned around, turning up nothing. Weapon

But of course there was nothing around. He was always defenseless in his dreams. He could create words here, when he's in this state, but when he was the one running, when he was the one cursing and screaming, he was unarmed and helpless. Like father, like daughter. Luckily, though, words weren't all he could create in this form, he had realized. He materialized a door earlier, to help Rose; maybe now he could materialize a weapon of some sort. But…

He sighed internally, hating the idea of her having to do this; unfortunately, what other choice did they have? Gun, he communicated.

"Seriously?" There was a sound from behind the door she'd used to get in here, and Rose flinched. "Where am I gonna get a gun?" She asked, incredulous.

He hated it. He hated that it had come to this, but all he had to do was imagine it, and it was there. She touched his words, and it appeared before her, just as he expected. He was happy it worked, but at the same time, this should never have happened in the first place. She shouldn't be here. she shouldn't need a gun. But at this point, she can't even leave.

She grabbed the gun tentatively, weighing it, examining it.

She didn't get much time to get accustomed to it. Another one of those..things slammed through the door, limping and groaning. Ethan never thought he'd be giving his daughter shooting lessons, much less in a situation like this, but you make do with the cards you've been dealt.

Point and shoot, he instructed.

It took a few shots, but she got it.

And then he woke up.

His breath was heavy, his brain thrumming with pain. He rubbed his temples,trying to massage the persistent pain away, but just like his memories of the night, it wasn't going away. He remembered everything clearly. It was all so lifelike, so real. Even still, he could hardly believe it was. When Zander woke up, he managed to calm Ethan down a little, but once he was gone, all Ethan had were his thoughts.

He made it through the whole day despite his grogginess. He wasn't sleepy, and even if he were, he still felt too wired up to want to go to sleep. He'd gotten over his fear of sleeping years ago, but now it was back with a vengeance. He didn't want to hear the screams anymore, but he knew it was all so much in his mind that he would definitely manifest it into nightmares again if he even so much as took a nap that day.

Yet, when night came around, and his fiancé got off work, and once they ate dinner together and Ethan listened to Zander talk about his day, he finally started to calm down again. For an hour, he forgot all about the night before, and after a shower, he was tired both mentally and physically. Being high strung all day had taken a toll on his mold body, and he knew he'd get to sleep in the instant his head hit the pillow.

So he went to bed.

And there she was again.

.

Zander had a pup named Sunny. It was a havanese-poodle mix with short, curly, white and light brown fur. It was a cuddly little thing that craved affection at all times. Ethan visited Zander's place often enough that Sunny got used to him being around, and although it only knew him for a few months, it jumped on him at every turn. It would sleep on his lap when it had the chance, comforted by his petting. Sunny took a million years to get tired, despite running around the room on its little legs over and over, jumping onto the couch and then back to the floor, then into the kitchen, and then back to Ethan again. It ran itself into circles, then when it got tired of that, found its place with him.

Sunny was a cute dog, so Ethan didn't mind. He'd never had a dog before. He and Mia never got one, although she had experience with them. They just were too caught up with their work, or with each other. They didn't have time to train one, or clean up after it, make sure it didn't pee in the house or anything like that. They'd entertain the idea, and then promptly forget about it. Then…that happened, and they had Rose, and…

But Ethan liked Sunny. He had time now, and he got to play with her and feel the relaxing benefits of having a dog without actually having to care for it. Whenever he was feeling anxious, he'd think about Sunny and Zander, and how he'd get to be with them later that day, or the next day, or that Friday, or whenever Ethan found himself making his way over to Zander's.

He never slept over.

That was rule number three. Zander didn't have any of his nightlights anyway, and he needed those. Ethan didn't even like to sleep, but surely Zander did, and it would be weird to be awake in his house when he isn't. Even though Ethan's home was quiet and lonely and isolating, he never let himself stay at Zander's overnight.

Rule number two is that they never ask about each other's love lives. They skirt around any mention of date nights with a simple can't, I'm busy and oh, what's happening? and another I'm busy, then never bring it up again, having gotten the idea. Ethan doesn't talk about Mia. Zander doesn't ask about Mia. Thus, everything goes on as it should.

Rule number one was that they don't talk about it. He knows, Zander knows, and that's all there is to it. They both know.

In his dreams, Ethan still has his wedding ring. He doesn't actually have it anymore. It's buried somewhere in Romania, unless someone on Chris's team found it and gave it back to Mia. Anything of his that was found would have been given back to her and Rose, not Ethan. He may have preferred it that way, if he didn't miss it so goddamn much. A new beginning, he reminded himself. A new beginning without her. Forget about the ring. You don't need the ring. It's not yours anymore. But he still catches himself twisting the skin around his ring finger where it had been in his memories.

He still has his fingers in his dreams, too. What turns it quickly into a nightmare is the sudden thought that he won't have them anymore. That a beast will come from behind a corner and tear them off. He holds his hands to his chest as he runs, his feet not moving fast enough under him to really gain any ground, like he's moving in slow motion. Cackles from deep in dolls throats reverberate down the hallway, and a dreadful sensation of black sludge slowly runs down Ethan's head.

But these are dreams, and he always wakes up.

.

Rose found the kitchen.

Over here, Ethan beckons. His words appear on a cabinet on the far side of the room. Should help, his words read as he materializes more supplies for her. The room is empty of enemies, and he can't hear or feel any close by. She's sweating, huffing, like she'd been running, and her grip is tight on the gun.

"If you really wanna help, you could back me up against those things." She frowns.

I can't.

"What? So, I'm on my own?" She sighs, quickly grabbing the ammo before her. "Great."

He doesn't reply. He doesn't have a body. What else can he do to help but this? If only he had a physical form, he'd fight every battle for her. He'd kill the Duke himself. Why doesn't he have a body? Why is this the hand he's been dealt? He wonders this as Rose cuts the chains to the door into the courtyard. He follows her as she looks around, and he lets himself look around as well. He knows this place. He knows it like the back of his hand. He's explored it a million times over, in dreams, in nightmares, in his memories. There's so many things Ethan doesn't remember about his past. Hell, he can't even remember what his parents looked like. But this place? This castle? This village? It's one of his clearest memories.

And suddenly it's back. That God awful feeling.

Rose. Rose. Focus on Rose. He tells himself. He repeats this over and over, even as a chill runs through him, like ice crashing over his head. He's buzzing. If he had a body, he'd be trembling. This is real, isn't it? He realizes. This is really her. He has to keep telling himself this, over and over. He has to focus, over and over.

There. That wasn't here before.

The scene before him changes. His daughter is walking up to the statue in the middle of the courtyard. The statue is of a woman, covered from head to torso in red, scabbing mush. Something resembling a flower covers the base, lifting the woman into the air and out of reach. Rosemary stops in front of it. The statue of the woman is wearing a bright red mask.

Mask trapped, Ethan communicates. Break core

The girl looks it over again, confused.

Use your powers

"My powers?" Her confusion turns to irritation. "I literally came here to get rid of them!"

Only way, he can feel his awareness fading again, but he keeps trying to guide her. He's getting less and less lucid. His sentences once again shorten into two words and no more. Need amplifier

"What's that?"

Keep going, He continues. He's slowly rising to consciousness. He feels it, as surely as he can feel the monsters rising, too, not too far away from where Rose stands. Through door

And he wakes up.

.

He's on his feet, fully clothed, eyes wide open with no feeling of fatigue at all. He's not tired, but he rubs his eyes anyway, trying to clear his vision, trying to recognize the mahogany walls around him. He doesn't need to try very hard; he recognizes it almost instantly—he just..can't believe it.

He's wearing his daughter's jacket. His jacket. And although he is in the halls of Castle Dimitrescu, she's nowhere to be seen.

This time, the terror takes complete hold.

..
kind comments welcome