James Sunderland

The bedroom was a suffocating shroud of indigo shadows, the air thick with the remnants of a scream that had died in James's throat. His heart hammered against his ribs like a trapped bird, each beat echoing the frantic rhythm of his ragged breathing. Sweat chilled on his skin, leaving him shivering despite the heavy quilt, as the blurred, horrific images of his nightmare began to dissolve into the mundane corners of their shared room. He turned his head sharply, his eyes searching through the gloom until they landed on the soft, familiar silhouette of his wife lying beside him. The mere sight of her stillness sent a wave of agonizing relief through his chest, a desperate confirmation that the world had not crumbled while he slept. He shifted closer until his trembling hand could reach out to tentatively brush some hair away from her face. "I thought I'd... lost you. That the dark had finally taken everything and left me with... nothing but the silence." James whispered; then trailed his thumb down to press the pulse point of her neck, the rhythmic thrum of life served as his only anchor to reality. "Don't ever leave me, please; I don't think I have enough of myself left to survive a world where I can't find you..." He exhaled a long, shuddering breath and collapsed against her side, burying his face into the crook of her shoulder as he clung to her with a silent, desperate devotion.