Her whole body ached as she walked the carpeted aisle to her apartment door. It had been a long day, listening to other people’s problems, but the last appointment had been the hardest. She had recognized the symptoms in her patient immediately as they were also hers. She knew what was wrong, even knew the name of it; post-traumatic stress disorder; but she just couldn’t seem to help herself. The nightmares had returned, always ending the same way; the gunshot and her screaming, falling. Lately, the person in the dream pulling the trigger wasn’t the man she had actually seen kill himself. No, now it was more disturbing. The shooter in the dream was her boyfriend.

Opening the door, she saw a small figure huddled on the oversized couch. "Hi Sarah," she smiled.

"Hi, Jessie. How’s it going?" Sarah returned the smile.

"Good."

Closer examination by Sarah showed that Jessie was lying. In fact, Sarah was seriously beginning to worry about her new roommate. "Jessie, you look like shit. Tough day?"

Kicking off her shoes, Jessie collapsed into a chair. "Thanks, Sarah. You look like a million bucks too." Trying to change the subject, Jessie asked, "Where are the guys?" Jessie and Sarah’s boyfriends were partners in a Private Investigations agency and also best friends.

"Stakeout, remember?" Jessie nodded but the truth was she didn’t remember. It had gotten so bad she was afraid to sleep, terrified she might see those ghostly images in her mind again. The lack of sleep was beginning to catch up with her in the form of muddled thinking. Jessie became aware that Sarah was studying her.

"What?"

"Jessie, are you having nightmares again?" The concern was evident in her voice.

"No," Jessie answered too quickly.

"Jessie…why don’t you tell Trent? Talk to him about them." Sarah leaned forward, her hand on Jessie’s leg.

"No!" Jessie pulled away, getting up and walking towards the kitchen. Sarah followed.

"Jessie…."

"Sarah," Jessie turned to face her. "Trent has his own things to worry about. He’s still recuperating." In her mind’s eye, Jessie saw Trent lying in the hospital, recovering from a gunshot would that almost killed him. And now, two days previously, the shooter had escaped from a Canadian prison.

"But, Jessie, he would want to know if something is bothering you. I know he would."

"Look, Sarah, this is a moot point because I am not still having nightmares." She went over and hugged her roommate. She knew that Sarah was frightened about Roger Peterson escaping from prison but she was trying hard not to show it. Sarah had been a target too. When Sarah had moved to Texas from Canada, Jessie had offered her a place to stay out of consideration. She had never expected to form such a deep friendship. "Thank you for worrying about me, but I’m fine. I’m just worried about you. How are you doing?"

"Okay, I guess. Carlos keeps telling me I have nothing to worry about, that Roger would be crazy to come here to Texas where he has the outstanding warrant and the death penalty." Carlos was her boyfriend.

"Carlos is right." Jessie said with a smile. "And now it’s late and we should go to bed. I know I am exhausted."

Sarah knew she had been dismissed but there was no point to argue. She just hoped that Jessie would open up to someone before it was too late.

**

"I hate stake outs," the Hispanic man grumbled, running his fingers through his dark curly hair. He tried to stretch out his long frame but was stopped by the dashboard of the non-descript car they were sitting in. "I hated them as a cop," he continued, "and I hate them now. Cold coffee, greasy sandwiches….naked women dancing in the street."

Finally, something snapped in Trent’s mind. "Huh, what? Who’s naked?"

Carlos chuckled. "What’s up, manno? You seem to be a million miles away."

"Nothing." Trent had been thinking about Jessie. Lately, she had been pulling away, finding every excuse not to spend time with him. And lately, the excuses were getting worse. "I’m fine. Let’s just get this over with so we can go home."

**

After lying in bed for a few minutes, Jessie decided to get up and wander around, afraid of what sleep might bring. She finally settled at the computer, wondering if her newfound friend would be on-line. She had met Rob two nights previously, in a psychology chat room. He had graduated for NYU and had established a practice here in Dallas, similar to Jessie’s.

Logging on, Jessie got numerous private messages asked her to ‘cyber’. Smiling to herself, she headed for the psych chat room she favoured.

Finally, a message box popped up that held her interest.

psychmd: hi Jess

She responded.

JessieMc: Hi Rob

psychmd: up awful late tonight

JessieMc: can’t sleep

psychmd: how come? your man not around?

JessieMc: no, just bad dreams. My man has other things to worry about.

psychmd: Aren’t you more important?

JessieMc: hahaha I haven’t told him about them

psychmd: why not?

JessieMc: just because

psychmd: ok, tell me then

Jessie took a deep breath. How much did she want to tell Rob? Maybe it would help to talk to another therapist.

psychmd: Jessie? you still there?

JessieMc: ptsd

The response was almost instantaneous.

psychmd: how traumatic?

JessieMc: had someone blow his brains all over me

psychmd: wow…was it a patient?

JessieMc: no, but someone I thought I could help. What a waste.

Jessie was taken by surprise by the next sentence.

psychmd: would it help if we got together and you could talk about it…and

the dreams?

Jessie hesitated before another message appeared.

psychmd: no pressure Jess. i just thought it might help to get it out.

JessieMc: I’m not sure.

psychmd: tell you what, i will be at the downtown diner on lincoln in about half an hour. i will wear my NYU sweatshirt. if you want to meet me, you can. it will be all up to you.

Jessie grabbed a pencil and wrote the name of the place down on her notepad before responding.

JessieMc: Thanks Rob.

psychmd: no probs Jess. maybe i’ll see you in half an hour. bye for now.

As Jessie signed off she wondered about what had just happened. It was almost one in the morning and she had been invited to a diner. Finally, she threw on a pair of jeans and Trent’s Dallas Mustangs sweatshirt. What do I have to lose? she thought. I can always walk away, right?