Nightmare
in which something chokes oliver
When Oliver opens his eyes, he can't move.
He can't see either, actually. At least he can breathe. Then for a split second he feels like he's in a vacuum and it rips a quiet noise from his throat and Oliver realizes he's dreaming. Or at least, he thinks he's dreaming. But then he's suddenly aware of the fact that he's not, because he's being wrenched out of bed and the thud against the floor is far too real but there's nothing there and he still can't move. There's an abrupt grasp on his neck, squeezing, but no one is touching him. He's alone.
It's too dark to see properly but when Oliver grabs at the hands around his windpipe he feels wrists and he pulls. The grip tightens and Oliver makes a desperate choking, clenching his eyes shut, and then he kicks and it's gone.
Oliver collapses against the floor and starts sobbing. He spends a full minute laying there, his body heaving, before he manages to collect himself enough to stumble next door into Matt's room and he just sort of falls into bed with him.
Matt rolls over. “Oli?” he asks softly. Then he notices he's been crying. He's still crying. “Baby,” he says urgently, wrapping the covers around him. “Baby c'mere. Breathe. What happened?”
“It were trying to kill me,” Oliver whimpers. Matt narrows his eyes.
“What?”
“It were trying to kill me,” Oliver repeats, a bit weaker. “It were choking me an' it pulled me out of bed an' tried to kill me.”
Matt is half-convinced Oliver is just having one of his drug-induced episodes until he sits up to turn the lamp on and he sees that Oliver's neck is bruising.
He can't see either, actually. At least he can breathe. Then for a split second he feels like he's in a vacuum and it rips a quiet noise from his throat and Oliver realizes he's dreaming. Or at least, he thinks he's dreaming. But then he's suddenly aware of the fact that he's not, because he's being wrenched out of bed and the thud against the floor is far too real but there's nothing there and he still can't move. There's an abrupt grasp on his neck, squeezing, but no one is touching him. He's alone.
It's too dark to see properly but when Oliver grabs at the hands around his windpipe he feels wrists and he pulls. The grip tightens and Oliver makes a desperate choking, clenching his eyes shut, and then he kicks and it's gone.
Oliver collapses against the floor and starts sobbing. He spends a full minute laying there, his body heaving, before he manages to collect himself enough to stumble next door into Matt's room and he just sort of falls into bed with him.
Matt rolls over. “Oli?” he asks softly. Then he notices he's been crying. He's still crying. “Baby,” he says urgently, wrapping the covers around him. “Baby c'mere. Breathe. What happened?”
“It were trying to kill me,” Oliver whimpers. Matt narrows his eyes.
“What?”
“It were trying to kill me,” Oliver repeats, a bit weaker. “It were choking me an' it pulled me out of bed an' tried to kill me.”
Matt is half-convinced Oliver is just having one of his drug-induced episodes until he sits up to turn the lamp on and he sees that Oliver's neck is bruising.