Christmas at the Lair | A John x Amanda story

Time's running out

"Please. No. Don’t hurt me! I’m begging you! Leave me alone. Please, PLEASE!”

A grip on the shoulders.

“NO!”, Amanda shrieks as her eyes pop open and she sees the outline of a hooded person leaning over her.

Kicking, trying to hit out in all directions with her arms that the monster is pressing against her mattress to keep her from lashing out, tears running down her sweaty cheeks.

“GET OFF OF ME. GET OFF! OFF!!!!”

“Amanda. Stop! It’s me.”

A voice of comfort. The voice.

“J…John?” she whispers, gasping for air in between sobs, her arms and legs loosening up.

“Yes, it’s me, John. You’re safe, Amanda. You’re safe.”

Now that she has stopped hitting, he lets go of her arms and turns on the old bedside lamp. The light bulb is almost burned out, but it sheds enough light for John to clearly see Amanda’s completely terrified and disturbed facial expression, shaking like an abused stray dog, little pearls of sweat trickling down the side of her face.

“Hey, it’s okay, I’m here. It was just a nightmare. Focus on your breath – In. Out. In. Out.”, he says, worrying that she might hyperventilate.

“No one is gonna hurt you, I won’t let them.”, he whispers in a calm, reassuring tone, gently taking her right hand, rubbing the top of it with his thumb.

“It…It felt so real.”, she stammers, grabbing her extremely fast rising and falling chest with her left hand to feel herself and her heartbeat, to get back into the present, to make sure she’s actually here and alive.

“But it wasn’t. This is reality.” He squeezes her hand tightly.

“Look at me.”

Her hazel, tear-filled eyes meet his blue ones. Like a beautiful brown leaf falling into the waves of the blue ocean.

She notices herself drowning in those exact ocean eyes. They’re …enchanting, hypnotizing, calming.

He could see her gaze soften and her body loosen up. Eye contact always worked for Amanda, it was one of John’s only ways to get through to her during her moments of emotional distress. Eyes are the door to the soul. Whenever they look at each other, their souls magically intertwine.

“That’s it. Good. You’re doing very good.”, he praises. Getting through the aftermath of a nightmare, through daunting panic attacks…It’s painfully hard, John knew that all too well. Since Gideon died, he experienced that time and time again. And once he got the cancer diagnosis, it all doubled. If he didn’t wake up from a nightmare, he woke up from one of the hundred symptoms you get when you’re dying from a terminal illness. Worst of them all were the throbbing headaches. And they get worse as the days go by…

Last week, he had an episode so painful that he had to throw up. Amanda brought him a bucket and stayed with him the entire night - like the loyal soul that she is - not daring to sleep for a single second, just in case John needed something.

And now he's at her bedside, being there for her the same way she always is for him.

“I’ll be right back, just a second.”, John says before leaving the room.

Amanda was tired of these nightmares. They occur almost every fucking single night, leaving her exhausted and powerless during the day, which is not very convenient when you got a job to do - a mission that is literally is supposed to change the damn world.