John couldn’t sleep.
All night long, that awful video, the sound of those gunshots, kept playing through his head. John tossed and turned, and whenever he did fall into an uneasy sleep, the memories would get worse, and he had troubled dreams in which he was actually killed, or that one of his mates tried to save him and was killed instead, and he would wake up again in a cold sweat.
It seemed like morning would never come, but eventually it did, bringing with it its own set of problems. The last thing John wanted to do was to leave the house and face his mates, possibly endangering them, or...
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