Prologue

Heston

My body is covered in sweat as I wake up in a state of absolute terror.

Craning my neck, I glance at the clock on the bedstand next to me.

Twelve o’ three in the morning.

It’s always the same goddamn time lately.

Fuck, I think as I angrily swat my blanket away.

I thought I had finally managed to get these flashbacks under control, but they still seem to find me in my dreams.

Coming to Ironhaven and working for Mr. Harvey for a few years got rid of the day terrors, but the night ones still linger .

I swing my legs over the side of the bed, angry that I can’t stop them no matter what I do, and walk over to my dresser. I pull out a fresh pair of boxer shorts from the top drawer, placing them on top before I walk back over to my bed and strip the sheets.

It's become something of a ritual lately.

Midnight showers.

Midnight laundry.

Midnight hopelessness.

Midnight regrets.

Once I’ve got the sheets piled up on the floor, I lean down, pull down my sweat-soaked boxers, and toss them onto the sheets.

I can feel my flaccid dick slap gently against my inner thigh and sigh in relief.

At the very least, I didn’t wake up hard over the nightmares .

Maybe I’m getting better after all, I dare to hope as I quickly bunch up the sheets and underwear in my arms and walk out of my room.

I make my way down the hallway and through the kitchen, using my foot to push open the door to the small room just behind it.

I set everything on top of the dryer, then reach up for the string above my head, pull it, and illuminate the room.

Once I can finally see what I’m doing, I make quick work of tossing everything into soak with a small cup of detergent, then go back to my room to grab the boxers still resting on top of the dresser.

I’ll feel better after I take a shower.

I always do.