"AHHHH!"
Lifting his upper body sharply, Joe screamed at the top of his lungs.
He quickly placed a trembling hand against his chest, feeling his heart still beating rapidly—a desperate, frantic drum against his ribs. His bedsheets were soaked through with sweat from the nightmare he'd just had. A few moments later, his entire body, from his neck down to his toes, began to ache with a dull, throbbing pain.
"Crap… a nightmare," Joe muttered to himself, gasping for air. "Another one. I haven't been getting the best sleep."
He tried to climb out of bed, but every part of his body screamed in protest. Every muscle fiber protested. When he finally managed to stand up, he turned around to look at the bed. There were dark, noticeable bloodstains on certain parts of the white sheets. Some of his deeper wounds were still in the middle of healing, and others had opened up in his restless, panicked sleep.
