[ And when Clay wakes, it's sudden. There's no quiet rise, there's no peace. There's Clay jolting forward with a harsh breath, sweat beading on his forehead and hair a mess atop his head. There's a panic in his breath as he struggles with the bedding trapping him on the bed, restraining his legs, his arms. His breathing is short, wheezing out of him in great gasps. He doesn't notice Rebecca, doesn't notice much besides the alarms ringing in his head. He's awoken in an hallucination. He's dying, he's dying, he's dead. He has to be. ]