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alwaysonguardSometime in the middle of the night, who knew exactly when- and what did it matter in a place with no distinction between day and night- Dwight was having a very not so good time. All the stress and worry he had been trying to ignore and keep at bay, suddenly caught up with him. And in typical fashion, had caught him completely off guard.
So it was, Dwight sat on the edge of the couch, head in his hands, heart pounding out of his chest. He could feel and hear each heart beat throbbing in his ears. He let out a ragged breath as drops of cold sweat still clung to his skin. His body was still trembling from the pure adrenaline rush that was still racing through his body.
This day was definitely not getting off to a good start…
[OOC: open for anyone holed along with Dwight- TW for flashback dream and PTSD]
Dwight stirred restlessly, the light sleep he had drifted into turning dark, as a nightmare crept in around the edges of his dreams. He was trapped. Something was holding him back, keeping him from moving or going anywhere. He was trapped and he needed to get free. He needed to run, to escape, to get to...someone… somewhere. His hand was caught…. In something… he couldn’t get free. In a trap again? His heart stopped for a moment as the memories flooded his mind…did they have him trapped again?
No, it didn't hurt enough for anything like that. But still, he couldn't move, he couldn't get away. He froze in terror as the unseen thing tightened its grip on his hand. His heart was pounding, his breathing ragged. In the darkness he froze, glanced around, searching the blackness for some sort of familiar sight. For anything. For anyone. Yet all he could see was blackness and all he felt was the pounding sensation growing in his chest. Voices echoed in his ears, whispering voices, cold, cruel, and dark.
Dwight lashed out at the unseen voice, its dark and sinister laugh taunting him as he struggled. As he fought, Dwight cried out against the voice as his hand finally was freed and he tried to run. He took a few steps only to find that his feet were now tangled, keeping him from escaping still. He thrashed around, trying to get away, fighting for his life as the panicked heartbeat thundered in his head and the weight on his chest seemed to intensify even more. He had to get away. He had to escape. Wherever it was, whoever it was, Dwight wanted nothing to do with the cold icy darkness. He had to get free and get away.
When his eyes finally snapped open, Dwight found himself in an unfamiliar place. He wasn’t in his house back in Haven. He wasn’t even in his bed in his apartment in Fandom. As his eyes adjusted to the dim light of the emergency lantern set in the hall, the panic-induced haze started to clear.
That’s right. Hannibal’s mansion. Down in the hole. With everyone else. Trapped still with no way out. It had been almost a week, and they were still no closer to getting out. He had tried to remember his training.
He tried to remember every coping mechanism that had kept him alive and sane overseas. But even compared to the utter insanity of Haven that he had become so familiar with, being stuck in a hole brings a certain level of helplessness Dwight was not aware of. In Afghanistan he had an enemy he could prepare for and face down. In Haven, there was always something they were working on to combat the Troubles. Every other challenge he had faced, there was something Dwight could actually do and stay focused on to fix the problem.
But this? What they were dealing with now? It seemed like there was no answer. No way out. No way to fix the problem. And Dwight was not handling that realization very well, now that he was being forced to face it head on and admit that he was powerless to fix it.
As he closed his eyes, Dwight forced himself to try and relax as he took some slow deep breaths. In for four, hold for five, out for six. After a few minutes, the thundering in his chest was calmer though still echoing in his ears as the nervous energy of the adrenaline rush still had his entire body on edge. Dwight recalled his Ranger training and one of the things they had taught them that had helped him at least somewhat cope with the nightmares when they would creep in again. With his breathing somewhat normalized, Dwight sat on the edge of the couch and ran through some grounding exercises, reconnecting himself with his five senses.
Five things he could see, then four things he could feel, next was three things he could hear, there were two things he could smell, and finally, one thing he could taste. Sighing softly as he finished, Dwight opened his eyes, feeling calmer but definitely not in the mood to try and sleep again any time soon.
And so now he sat outside on the steps leading up to the mansion, already worried about having disturbed anyone else who had been inside trying to sleep. In his hands was the piece of wood he was whittling away at, finishing it up with a slight sigh as he held it in his hands and inspected it.
(PIC- https://i.pinimg.com/564x/f6/10/5b/f6105b3e73319609be0994d658d9d53d.jpg)
“Better scrounge up some more wood scraps,” he muttered to himself, “if this is going to keep stretching on like this. Probably gonna need it.”
[Post open to any of his fellow holed companions!]
So it was, Dwight sat on the edge of the couch, head in his hands, heart pounding out of his chest. He could feel and hear each heart beat throbbing in his ears. He let out a ragged breath as drops of cold sweat still clung to his skin. His body was still trembling from the pure adrenaline rush that was still racing through his body.
This day was definitely not getting off to a good start…
[OOC: open for anyone holed along with Dwight- TW for flashback dream and PTSD]
Dwight stirred restlessly, the light sleep he had drifted into turning dark, as a nightmare crept in around the edges of his dreams. He was trapped. Something was holding him back, keeping him from moving or going anywhere. He was trapped and he needed to get free. He needed to run, to escape, to get to...someone… somewhere. His hand was caught…. In something… he couldn’t get free. In a trap again? His heart stopped for a moment as the memories flooded his mind…did they have him trapped again?
No, it didn't hurt enough for anything like that. But still, he couldn't move, he couldn't get away. He froze in terror as the unseen thing tightened its grip on his hand. His heart was pounding, his breathing ragged. In the darkness he froze, glanced around, searching the blackness for some sort of familiar sight. For anything. For anyone. Yet all he could see was blackness and all he felt was the pounding sensation growing in his chest. Voices echoed in his ears, whispering voices, cold, cruel, and dark.
Dwight lashed out at the unseen voice, its dark and sinister laugh taunting him as he struggled. As he fought, Dwight cried out against the voice as his hand finally was freed and he tried to run. He took a few steps only to find that his feet were now tangled, keeping him from escaping still. He thrashed around, trying to get away, fighting for his life as the panicked heartbeat thundered in his head and the weight on his chest seemed to intensify even more. He had to get away. He had to escape. Wherever it was, whoever it was, Dwight wanted nothing to do with the cold icy darkness. He had to get free and get away.
When his eyes finally snapped open, Dwight found himself in an unfamiliar place. He wasn’t in his house back in Haven. He wasn’t even in his bed in his apartment in Fandom. As his eyes adjusted to the dim light of the emergency lantern set in the hall, the panic-induced haze started to clear.
That’s right. Hannibal’s mansion. Down in the hole. With everyone else. Trapped still with no way out. It had been almost a week, and they were still no closer to getting out. He had tried to remember his training.
He tried to remember every coping mechanism that had kept him alive and sane overseas. But even compared to the utter insanity of Haven that he had become so familiar with, being stuck in a hole brings a certain level of helplessness Dwight was not aware of. In Afghanistan he had an enemy he could prepare for and face down. In Haven, there was always something they were working on to combat the Troubles. Every other challenge he had faced, there was something Dwight could actually do and stay focused on to fix the problem.
But this? What they were dealing with now? It seemed like there was no answer. No way out. No way to fix the problem. And Dwight was not handling that realization very well, now that he was being forced to face it head on and admit that he was powerless to fix it.
As he closed his eyes, Dwight forced himself to try and relax as he took some slow deep breaths. In for four, hold for five, out for six. After a few minutes, the thundering in his chest was calmer though still echoing in his ears as the nervous energy of the adrenaline rush still had his entire body on edge. Dwight recalled his Ranger training and one of the things they had taught them that had helped him at least somewhat cope with the nightmares when they would creep in again. With his breathing somewhat normalized, Dwight sat on the edge of the couch and ran through some grounding exercises, reconnecting himself with his five senses.
Five things he could see, then four things he could feel, next was three things he could hear, there were two things he could smell, and finally, one thing he could taste. Sighing softly as he finished, Dwight opened his eyes, feeling calmer but definitely not in the mood to try and sleep again any time soon.
And so now he sat outside on the steps leading up to the mansion, already worried about having disturbed anyone else who had been inside trying to sleep. In his hands was the piece of wood he was whittling away at, finishing it up with a slight sigh as he held it in his hands and inspected it.
(PIC- https://i.pinimg.com/564x/f6/10/5b/f6105b3e73319609be0994d658d9d53d.jpg)
“Better scrounge up some more wood scraps,” he muttered to himself, “if this is going to keep stretching on like this. Probably gonna need it.”
[Post open to any of his fellow holed companions!]
