The absence of sleep was nothing new for Chase. Insomnia was one of the many side effects of his medication, and the recent drama with Pete McClouth and the Caelans only added to it. Even before he was diagnosed, Chase dreaded lying down to sleep, knowing that it would be a wrestling match each and every night. His inability to focus meant that he focused on everything. Dr. Chandrian called it hyperfocus. Too much light, too much noise, too hot in the room, bed not comfortable enough, and most of all, his mind never stopped. When he was not actively performing a task, his mind sought something. It was like a runaway car needing both a driver and destination.
Dr. Chandrian told him that this was all an inherent side effect of ADHD. She explained why, once, but he couldn't remember—he didn't want to remember. Chase didn't like knowing the reasons. Reasons only made it worse—giving him yet another thing to ponder in the wee hours of the night.
Tonight though, there was something different about his restlessness.
He had a recurring dream of Avery being shot. But unlike the actual event, there was no emaculo drum to save her. Everything moved in slow motion, allowing Chase to step in front of the bullets to save her life. Every time he made the decision to sacrifice himself, he woke. The dream repeated again and again, in different locations and different settings, but every time it was the man with the blond beard pulling the trigger, and every time it was Chase stepping in front of her.
The first time was in her garden. Avery's golden hair was sparkling in the sun as they worked in the dirt together, laughing and joking all the while. And suddenly the gunman was there, shooting at them from behind the cover of the neighbor's maple tree. Dirt sprayed upward as a trail of bullets began tracking toward Avery. Chase pushed her to the ground, protectively covering her body as pain exploded throughout his back.
Then they were drinking strawberry milkshakes in the car, sitting in the middle a parking lot amidst of a torrential downpour. Their conversation was filled with both laughter and depth, as Chase shared harrowing stories from his past. What he thought was a flash of lightning was really an assault rifle, and he had only a split second to throw himself over Avery, protecting her from bullets and flying glass.
Lastly, they were at Cadence's house, sitting in front of the fireplace. The man with the beard had somehow followed them there, watching Chase and Avery from the window. Chase was trying to say goodbye to her, but it wasn't a fond farewell—it was the farewell of somebody who knew that he had to die in order for her to live. By the time the gunman opened fire, Chase had thrown himself in front of her once again.
It was after 9 AM when he finally woke for good, and he couldn't help but wonder if his dreams were some sort of penance in his mind; an opportunity to erase his past wrongdoings by giving a second chance to somebody with a kind heart.
If his dreams weren't enough of a reminder of yesterday's events, his missing comforter was. He had used it to wrap Avery after tending to her, which meant it was still at Cadence's house.
"Damn," Chase said, suddenly remembering that many of his other things were also missing—including his meds. They were at the resort where he and Avery stayed last night, The Amocular.
He swung himself into a sitting position and pushed himself off of the bed. But as he stood, pain instantly shot through his entire right leg, causing him to immediately sit right back down again. He looked at the angry wound on his thigh. Clear fluid had built up around the stitching, and the whole area was swollen and extremely painful.
He muttered a curse and hobbled into the bathroom, heavily favoring his left leg. Yesterday was a day that he would never forget. Avery was shot and almost killed, causing her to reveal her identity. Her identity motivated him to free Pete McClouth from the mental hospital. And now that he was free, Chase's focus was solely on finding the bearded gunman.
