Hunt crashed to the floor, the nightstand rocking and his water glass shattering on the tile. Bedsheets entangled his legs as he kicked and scrambled, crawling backwards. Pressed against the wall, he stared out into the darkness. Maria flipped on her bedside lamp, coaxing him awake. His eyes slowly returned from their daze. “Wait on the bed,” he murmured, coming to his feet. Across the room, he slipped on his sneakers and grabbed a towel before kneeling to gather the largest chunks of glass. Maria, dressed in his faded Chargers t-shirt, reassured him. “It was only a bad dream,” she said, offering to get the kitchen trash can. She opened their bedroom door and let out a scream.