Just when I think I find the trick

[keenly]

WHO: Colin + you
WHAT: Recent events catch up to him. In the worst way.
WHEN: Present, early morning.
WHERE: The apothecary in the Gallows.
NOTES: Warning: PTSD. Like, a lot of it. No holds barred. Specific triggers will include claustrophobia, agoraphobia, sleeping panic attacks, emotional flashbacks, mostly battle- and Uldred-related but may include mentions of past sexual abuse because ultimately it isn't divided into little boxes. Since it's a public space, it's not closed to existing CR or anything, but strangers may find this a lot to take on.

Of all his dreams, none are worse than the ones where he is found.

He snaps awake in the morning, shaking, sheets cold and drenched in sweat. His eyes look up and shadows shape into shades, folds of cloth into demons.

Not again not again not again not again--

He can't do this here. Audra isn't in the room at the moment but she can be, she can come back at any time and he can't be seen, he can't be found again even by someone who never hurt him, can't can't can't can't cant.

Colin races down the hallway like a flash, barefoot and unkempt, the world overexposed around him. The only things he can really focus on are things he needs to run away from. The apothecary door slams open--the store is not open yet, it is too early, but despite being a technically public place it is unlikely to be populated and there is a closet that locks and he needs dark and quiet and private. The closet door hits the wall as he flings it open and slips inside, slamming it behind him and locking it before collapsing on the floor and wailing into his hands.

He hates it, hates how loud and impossible this is, hates that it seizes on him and possesses like a demon, hates that he isn't strong enough to lock it in his body and needs a closet to contain it. With the muffled cries, he strikes his face repeatedly with one hand, stupid stupid stupid stupid stupid stupid.

But at least in this small, dark space, he is safe. He is hidden. He can't be reached by the shapes that warp around him in the light. But he is also trapped. The walls are too close, the darkness is closer, and if he opens the door, he leaves himself exposed. There is nowhere left to go. If that lock opens, he will die.

Comments

[keenly]

Anders is met with silence, for now. After a moment, Colin takes a risk, bending forward and resting his cheek on Anders' knee. It's not really an answer to the question of what caused this, only a sign of how desperate Colin is to hang on, to ground himself in reality and keep someone there with him. Even if it had been something to do with sex, he might act no differently now. But it all blurs together anyway; it was good that Colin got to initiate it, instead of Anders.

"It's stupid," he whispers. Stupid, I'm stupid stupid stupid. His hand rises to fist in the roots of his hair and tug. "I'm so stupid."

[justice_is_blond]

He takes the touch as permission, putting an arm around Colin.

"No. You're far from stupid." There's certainty in his voice. Intelligence doesn't rule out the chance of Colin doing something stupid, but being? Absolutely. "And there's literally nothing you could tell me that would change that. What's happened?"

At the very least it hasn't gone through the regular Gallows gossip channels, so maybe it's just a private frustration over something.

[keenly]

Another shake of his head.

“Most days, I’m fine. Then one nightmare, and it’s like I’m that kid again.”

[justice_is_blond]

That's familiar. Anders sighs.

"I know how that goes." The arm-around turns into a pat, even though he doesn't know that it's going to help. "And I don't know that it ever fully goes away. The time between the nightmares gets longer, though. There's more breathing room."

He still wakes up from dreams where he's locked up in a tiny dark room, and ones where he's just driven the dagger into Karl again. The others aren't nearly as bad and don't send him into a panic attack.