Cassian didn't stop. Nor did he wake.
It was as if the nightmare had completely consumed him, devoured him from the inside out.
Each blow he landed on himself carried not only brute force, but a weight heavier than any hammer, like he was trying to either awaken or destroy what remained of himself.
Was he trying to claw his way back to consciousness… or punishing himself?
I didn't know. But if he kept going like that, he was going to give himself a concussion.
Without thinking, I reached out and wrapped my arms around him from the side, locking both of his arms in place. He thrashed violently, trying to break free. I only held him tighter.
I'd seen this before. In teammates who'd returned from missions twisted by trauma. In victims of cases that should've never happened.
I'd been like that once. Had to go through months of therapy to even breathe right again.
