My sobs grow louder with each passing moment. It was haunting me. Not just once, but multiple times each night. From different views. One minute I'm myself, next I'm Newton.
And then I am her. The victim of the murder. The innocent girl who died the same night Newt and I were strolling in town.
Painful. A painful act that should be painless.
The dreams are not only haunting, but painful. Searing, burning pain, to the point where I lose all control, all memory, all hope of living, for a fleeting, realistic three seconds.
Then I wake.