CHAPTER FORTY-THREE

When sleep came for me in a few minutes' time, I would neither care nor be worried about the fact. Analysing all the implications of our rather sordid, temporary relationship could come later - much, much later, hopefully.

The nightmares that had been absent these last five years returned with a vengeance. Everyone that had ever held a knife to my throat or a gun to my back seemed to reappear in my brain, over and over again.

It was bizarre, really. Now that I didn’t fear death, and was almost actively trying to meet it head-on, they’d reappeared for kicks.

I found myself running down dark alleyways, thrown into deep, dark holes, and covered with mud, before scrambling over rusty barbed wire fences that cut my skin to ribbons. They were just a few of my dark hours, but thankfully I awoke, gasping for breath, before I got to my favourite one.

Trying to move my arms and tug the cover up over my body, it was with shock that I realized I was stuck solid in position, with a pair of arms