Sleep is swift to try to pull me back under, so I force myself to sit up, bringing my knees to my chest. Sweat prickles along the back of my neck like little icy needles, and a shiver wracks through my body as I bury my face in my knees, blinking away the heaviness dragging me back down. I dig my nails into the underside of my thighs until all I feel is the sting of my flesh fighting not to break.

It’s early. Like stupid early. I can tell that much, even if everything else is still kind of fuzzy around the edges. It’s still dark out, but the shadows are beginning to thin as the sun makes its ascent over the far-off mountains, creeping through my window and painting my room in inky shades of blue.

I go to grab my phone off my nightstand when something creaks outside my room, causing me to flinch hard enough to send it tumbling off the edge with a dull thunk as it hits the carpet. Fuck.

Scrubbing a shaky hand through my sleep-matted hair, I force myself to breathe through the panic. To shove away the needling doubts and old fears trying to fight their way beyond the veil of sleep.

You’re not there, he’s not here, you’re safe.

You’re safe.

When I’m just about certain the organ in my chest is no longer a flight risk, I take one last measured breath before unfurling my body. Joints pop as I shake out my wrists and crack my neck. I reach over for my phone. The time flickers from 4:35 to 4:36, and I sigh. I’m lucky if I make it to five most days.

It’s getting worse.

I cringe at the thought, rubbing circles over my sternum with the heel of my hand. I’ve had trouble sleeping for years, but it was never this bad. This...intense.

No longer are my nightmares cuffed in the deepest corners of my mind; instead, they are spilling over into my conscious state, enough for me to be acutely fucking aware of them. Enough for me to remember what they’re about, and why I’m waking up panting, heart racing, and shivering in eighty plus degree weather.

Before, I could at least pretend I wasn’t a total basket case.

Before, I could wake up at least somewhat rested.

Knuckling the grit from my eyes, I force myself to get up before I’m tempted to risk more sleep. My body needs it; my brain says hell no.

I quickly relieve my screaming bladder in my en-suite bathroom before padding out to the kitchen. Yawning, mid-stretch, it doesn’t immediately register that I’m not alone.