The Red King and the Witch

Promise

I can't breathe.

He is too strong, I can't breathe!

I tried to get his arm off my neck but he tugged me back to his chest. He yanked at my neck, tugging me back, then he squeezed tighter.

My fingernails dug into his face, his chest but he wouldn't let go.

I was choking.

My helmet strap dug into my skin, my boots kicked at his legs.

No! He can't! I CAN'T DIE HERE! LET GO! He won't let go!

Why won't he let go!

I can't breath, I CANT BREATH!

"Wake up" a voice gruffly whispered, a warm hand squeezing my shoulder.

All at once my body shot up, heart racing, skin breaking out into a cold sweat and shivers.

The air couldn't come in fast enough, I just kept gasping for it, my mind replaying the dream as I fought to ground myself back into reality.

I wasn't dead.

I was alive.

I could breath, it was just a dream.

The room I woke up in was dark and had a small fire lit against the far wall. A white lace curtain covered the corner window over the bed, there was no light outside.

The voice was standing near the bed, steel blue eyes fixed on me as he pulled his hand back.

"Tommy right?" I asked for reassurance, and the man gave me a small nod as he settled back into a chair.

"Thanks, Tommy" I sighed, returning a nod, then with a slow breath, laying my body back down on the bed and shutting my eyes.

Pulsating pain had returned to my skull, slowly replacing the dream. I took a few deep breaths trying to concentrate on slowing my heart beat.

Nightmares had become a regular occurrence after retiring from the Army, and although the fight happened a year ago, I still dreamt of it vividly.

Some nights I was reliving the panic and fear of not being able to breath, of dying. Some nights it was me killing him over and over again.

Then came the nights that were filled with screams from the people I couldn't save. Pleading shouts and cries for their mothers or wives during their last moments echoing in my dreams. Their faces were never the same, yet they all pleaded the same thing.

Help me please, I am going to die. Help me please help me, I don't want to die.

After a few minutes the pain dulled to an annoyance, the dream faded and my heartbeat slowed.

Only then did I open my eyes to look at Tommy.

He looked upset or perhaps brooding was a normal look for him. It seemed that he started another staring contest, his eyes had been glued to mine from the moment I opened them, taking a swig from the bottle in his hands before speaking.

"Bad dream?" he asked, gesturing to me with the bottle in his hand, I only nodded yes instead of answering and Tommy grunted before taking another shot of liquor.

"You stay here all night?" I asked slowly, the room was dark so it was hard to see his face clearly but I noticed that he changed his clothes.

Instead of a grey suit, he now wore black, his cap laid out on the bedside table. He was slouched in his seat, cigarette in his left hand, liquor bottle in his right.