awareness is the enemy of sanity
It's a sound of quiet and complete distress that rakes up through Finn's chest, escaping behind clenched teeth as the body (because it is a body, he realises with horrifying clarity) presses further against him. His attempts to fight and claw away die there and then; Finn retreats far into himself, somewhere he can try and wake himself from what must surely be a nightmare. Bile burns at the back of his throat and tears sting his eyes; he barely recognises the voice in his ear, but it's enough to rip open wounds he's not even aware were ever healed.
Then the arms release him and Finn is out of bed like a fleeing animal, though he doesn't get far. There's not much in his stomach at this time of the morning, but rest assured what is there is emptied, sour and acrid, onto the floorboards beside the bed. "Oh, gods," he retches, collapsing onto his side and simultaneously trying to scrabble away.
Then the arms release him and Finn is out of bed like a fleeing animal, though he doesn't get far. There's not much in his stomach at this time of the morning, but rest assured what is there is emptied, sour and acrid, onto the floorboards beside the bed. "Oh, gods," he retches, collapsing onto his side and simultaneously trying to scrabble away.
for once you hear the screaming
it never stops
FINN
