Zayn thrashed in his sleep, his breath ragged, chest heaving like he was drowning. Sweat soaked through the sheets, clinging to his skin as he twisted under its weight. The nightmare was back again.
It always came like this, sudden, choking, too real to be just a dream. A memory burned into his bones.
They were forcing something down his throat. Thick. Bitter. It scorched its way down, lighting every nerve on fire. He tried to scream, but the iron muzzle strapped over his mouth cut into his jaw, silencing him. His limbs jerked uncontrollably. His muscles locked. His skin crawled, blistering from the inside out.
He collapsed, shaking, but they didn’t stop. They laughed. Chains clinked. Hands grabbed him, yanking him up like he weighed nothing. They dragged him through the dirt, past bloodstains and shattered weapons.
