I see you in nightmares

It was the same dream as always.

The man with desolate eyes, and dark curls turned to him. He attacked.

Raised fists and bloodied knuckles. Bruises along his cheek bone and the smirk as he landed a punch. The pained raw cry from his throat as he lunged forward…

But he couldn’t remember what for? What had he done to attract such a reaction? It was bad. It had to have been bad.

He knew he was a murderer.

Maybe he had killed again.


But there was someone else, another man but with sympathetic blue eyes. He trusted this man. He didn’t know why. He couldn’t remember.


He stepped in front of his when the other man attacked. He was pushed to the side. The man with desolate eyes only wanted him.

He didn’t know what to do, but his instincts- his training- told him to kill.
He didn’t want to die.

He just couldn’t remember why.


When he woke, he went to the market with his pockets light and his stomach empty. His eyes scanned over the items all lined up neatly in rows, in columns, in stacks… his stomach growled.

But the tags told him to keep walking.

He had to settle with a single plum. He didn’t mind though. He remembered he liked those. He didn’t know why.


When he returned to the flat, the door was open.


That’s when his heart stopped.

He wasn’t afraid of intruders- he was confident in his unusual skills to keep him safe- but he was terrified of the man he saw by the fridge, flicking through his messy notebook – full of his fragmented memories.

He was blond. He was tall. He was standing in his flat with only a small knife. A small knife he had tried and failed to conceal it within in suit.

A man in a suit was standing in his kitchen that was falling apart.

“I’m here to help you.”

He had spoken softly, and he was surprised he was able to hear him approach.


“I don’t need help.”


“yes, you do- Agent.”


His spin straightened and his hand laid on his own knife strapped to his thigh.
But when the man turned around, he was faced with familiar blue eyes. He knew he could trust him.

So, he followed him to the bunker which he was promised was secure and unbreachable. He would be safe there.

The man knew of his past; he had shown him the paperwork with his old name, address, deceased family members and their plot numbers. He showed him the reports they had written on the experiments. He had seen the photographs.

That was him.

But it wasn’t…


But he was safe now. He was promised he was safe down there.


And he believed him, wholeheartedly. He had too. Otherwise, he could be found, killed or worse… taken back.

He believed him, right to the moment the grand thick metal doors were prided open.


They were wearing a helmet when they first stepped into the bunker. They were shorter than the other man, thinner too. But they were armed. He noticed the guns immediately.

The blond man stepped by his side, standing just a bit too close.


“This man is protected, leave now and you won’t face the consequences…”

They lifted their hand, and pointed to his chest.


“It was him,”


The first thing he noticed was the look of shock on the blond man’s face. Then confusion. Then realisation. The shock once more.


“You shouldn’t be here Adam,”


They knew each other?


“Why are you protecting him! You know what he has done, what he is capable of.”

“Exactly, I know what he is capable of. He was an experience, Adam; he is a victim just like the others.”


“But the others didn’t have blood on their hands” His voice shook with anger.


“Some didn’t- many did”

 
He looked between them. They were talking about him. He was the experiment. He knew he had blood on his hands. He knew so many of them were innocent – children or unlucky witnesses.

And they were all his fault.


The armoured man reached for his gun, but the other man jumped forward to knock him off balance, resulting in the gun sliding across the damp base of the bunker.

His instincts told him to grab it – that’s what he did.

But the man didn’t stop, he pulled forward another, smaller gun from his hip and fired in his direction. The bullets ricocheted off the metal walls, one was unlucky enough to hit him in the back of the shoulder.

The blond man raced forward; both threw punches and tried to out manoeuvre the other. The blond man managed to secure ‘Adam’ with his arm around his neck, but he threw himself backward to escape. In the tussle, the man grasped the helmet he wore and tore it from his face…


Beneath the helmet revealed the dark curls.

It was the man with desolate eyes and dark curls that turned towards him. Then attacked.



“He’s a murderer!” he screamed as he threw the punches, bloodied his knuckles, and glared down at him.

He had pined him to the ground. The other man had been thrown across the room.


“Do you even remember her?” he whispered as he held his throat down.


“I don’t remember anything,” it was weaker than he had been taught to.


The man raised his fist again, murder in its intention….


“But I see you, I see you in my nightmares,”