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Five Hours

"No!" he sat straight up in bed, sweat soaked, heavily breathing, and calming down only slowly. Too slowly. He felt Eliza's hand on his arm.
     "What's wrong? she inquired. 
     Damnation! It was more than five years ago and he still jerked out of sleep from time to time. 
     He wouldn't tell her. She deserved better, having her own memories to deal with. 
     "It's nothing, Love. Just a bad dream," he forced through clenched teeth. 
     He hadn't told anyone. It was one of the few issues he'd ever voluntarily lied about in a report. 
     The five hours before his psychocrystallization.

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