In spite of a warnin' voice that comes in the night and repeats, repeats in my ear: Don't you know, little fool, you never can win?

I'm awake before the sun sets, and awake before Tommy. Gadzooks is still curled by my feet, paws twitching gently. I prop myself on one elbow and wait for Tommy to wake. His sleeping expression is a stark contrast from the usual, without put-on or performance. I reach out and stroke the hint of gray at his temples. My fingertips only graze the strands of his hair before he catches my hand and presses my knuckles to his mouth. His lips are cold and dry. Almost sheepishly, I whisper: "Sorry. Didn't mean to wake you." He doesn't respond, simply throwing the covers off and rising inelegantly to his feet. He knocks into the side of the bed, jostling the mattress. Gadzooks wakes up with a yip, her ears flattening to her head. I pet her, offering comfort, but she jumps off the bed to retreat to the corner. I ignore her low growl and look back to Tommy. My brow furrows as I watch him pace, his movements cumbersome at first, then slowly more fluid. "Tommy? Are you OK?" I slide off the bed, approaching him tentatively. "Sir?" I add, in case I've displeased him. His gaze lands on me, depth-less and almost oppressive. I shrink back slightly as he reaches out, his hand settling solidly on the back of my neck. Pulling me closer, he says my name, the three syllables sounding harsh and alien from his lips. The close proximity makes my nose wrinkle, the powdery scent of Tommy's flesh becoming overwhelming.

From the corner, Gadzooks begins barking, the sound sharp and staccato in the otherwise silent room. I open my mouth to shush her, quickly closing it again as Tommy turns his harsh glare to the dog. His eyes seem to burn with a frightful strength, sending Gadzooks running from the room with her tail tucked tightly between her legs. Without looking back to me, Tommy's hand tightens its grasp, sliding against my skin and under my collar. He fingers the charm dangling against my throat, face turning and eyes settling on the inscription. I keep my body still, wary of rousing a temper in him and glad that there are no visible signs of my anxiety. As he traces his thumb over the words, his mouth tightens into a straight, stern line. Elevating his gaze to my face, his eyes bore into my own. Anxiety breeds terror as Tommy chants in another language, gesturing in the air with his free hand. I try to pull back but his grip is firm. Feeling some supernal force pull at me, I strike out at him, knocking his hand away and swiping my nails across his face. He curses, almost taciturn, turning his face from my view as I make space between us.

Safe on the other side of the room, the bed a barrier between Tommy and I, I spit out "What the...what the fuck, Tommy?!" He turns to face me, strips of his flesh hanging from his visage. My hand slaps across my mouth, my expression aghast. Under the torn flesh, shades of deathly pallor show through. His skin seems to hang loosely, as if knocked askew from his body. My gut churns, dread seeping from my very pores. "...no. No, please.." He reaches up, hooking his fingers under the shredded flesh and peeling it back. Tommy's face distorts as the sinews stretch and tear. Under the mask of skin, the face is corpse-like and impassive, the eyes staring into mine as he continues to slough off flesh. Tommy's scalp is drawn back, exposing long dark hair greased down with reddish fluid. Crawling over the bed, Bernito tosses the remains of Tommy's face onto the floor, his own features exposed through a layer of gore. The skin gathered around his neck puddles and sags as he lurches closer. I retreat until my back hits the wall, terrified tears trailing down my cheeks. Petrified, I can't even grow my claws as Bernito closes in. He reeks of dirt and viscera as his hand closes around my throat once more. I grab halfheartedly at the appendage, my hands unable to gain purchase as his skin slips loosely over the muscle underneath. He resumes chanting, and I shriek through my constricted airway as my soul is ripped from my body.

The Master wakes me up with her sounds. She's scared again. Scared bad. She hasn't been scared for awhile, and she is again. It smells so bad. My Master's claws are long, and I hide from them. I move to the Man, my tail and ears low. He is scary and mean, but my Master needs him. Master would be sad if I wake her and make myself hurt. I push my muzzle at the man, whining at the cold feeling on my nose. My Master moans and groans, making pain sounds. I match the sounds with my whine, and put my teeth on the Man's hand. He moves his hand a little, so I bite. His hand hurts when it hits at me, but my Master's scream hurts us both. The Man sits up, worried for my Master. He touches her, says her name, and I wag nervously. She wakes up, and her face is animal scared. Prey scared. I jump from the bed, cowering as she screams at the Man. He says more words to her, says her name more. He touches her and her scream hurts my ears. My Master's claws hurt the Man, and I whine at the smell of blood, fear and bad dog.

My shriek is loud enough to hurt my own ears, but I know he's still here. There's a quick and graceful movement at the side of the bed, and gun in hand, Bernito glares at me through Tommy's visage. My lips draw back from my teeth in a snarl as he stows away his gun, offering his open hands in supplication. "What's wrong little one?" His voice is full of pseudo concern that enrages, rather than assuages.
Terrified, I shriek at him. "I'm not going back to what I was!" I hear Gadzooks whimper from the floor as I move with unnatural speed and rake my claws across his face, wanting to expose the monster for who he really is. Bernito falls back, hitting his head against the wall and sliding down to slump ungainly to a sitting position. He lifts his left hand, covering the gaping wound. I stop in the midst of drawing my hand back to swipe again, catching a familiar scent from the dripping claws. I bring them closer to my face, absorbing the unmistakable odor of Tommy's blood. Horrified at my actions, I lower my hand, compulsively wiping it across my shorts. Covering my mouth with my clean hand, I try to blink away the tears welling in my eyes. "Tommy? I...oh god. I thought....I thought you were him again." Tommy's face twists and distorts as his emotions churn between rage, confusion and concern. The tears spill over as I rip away a piece of my shirt, lowering to a kneel and holding the balled up fabric towards his face. "I'm so sorry...I dreamed that..." I can't force myself to speak the nightmare aloud. I open the link between Tommy's thoughts and my own, sharing the horror with him. He rises to his feet, opening his arms to me in a swift, decisive manner. I ignore his awaiting embrace, rising as well. Dabbing gently at the claw marks in his flesh, I whisper a endless flow of apologies. The torrent of conflicting emotions across his face frighten me, and I flinch as I quietly inquire, "Are you angry with me?" His expression seems to settle on disgust as I tend to his wounds. Dropping my eyes, I complete my task, wringing the bloody rag between my fists. "I'm sorry..." I repeat, to no response. "Do you need to...do you want some of my blood?" He places his hand at the back of my head without a word. I stare at the drops of red that fall and stain my socks, my voice growing desperate. "I could sleep in the bathtub if you'd rather..."

Tommy's expression is without change as he twists his hand into my hair, pulling me to the side of the bed. I move willingly, despite my trembling. A small, fruitless growl comes from the floor, and I silently hope that Tommy doesn't take his anger out on Gadzooks. He pushes me into the mattress, pressing my face against the sheets and gripping at my hip with his free hand. I remain quiet and complacent, knowing I deserve whatever punishment he deems necessary. I hear him calmly state, "I love you, little one." as he holds me in place. Mouth full of mattress, I don't respond as he continues, "I forgive you, little one. You can satiate me tomorrow morning, but I forgive you." 
His words bring a small, muffled whimper to my lips. Gadzooks discontinues her steady growl, seemingly just as placated. Tommy's hands release their grasp on me, and I can practically hear his fists clench. I straighten my stance and only glance at his face before flinching away. Climbing onto the bed, I pull my knees to my chest and wrap my arms around them. Risking another inquiry, but not willing to break the silence with my own prattling, I speak into Tommy's thoughts. "Will you come back to bed with me?"

Tommy replies, out loud, "In a moment. Just sleep." He leans a hand against the wall, the other pressed against his forehead.

I burrow into the blankets and whisper, "Yes...yes, sir." Gadzooks hops up onto the bed, curling into a ball by my feet. I watch Tommy from over the top of the covers as he stands, still, silent and stoic.

After a few moments, he lowers his hand from his face, wiping the blood from his palm onto the wall. He returns to our bed, laying stiff over the covers. His back and nape offer no comfort, and he does not move to face me. I stare at the back of his head, as my pillow grows increasing more damp. After awhile, maybe after he's fallen back asleep, I turn away from him. Gadzooks crawls unobtrusively further up the bed, nestling against my chest as I succumb to sleep and its torments once more.

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