Sitting in a small arm chair, I watch the man opposite asleep in a large queen size bed. He tosses and turns, kicking at the sheets that cling to his legs, moaning and muttering in his sleep as nightmares plague him.

It had been 3 days since Zak returned home, but he hadn't come home alone...

I had sensed the shift within the house, the moment he came through the door and dropped his bag. It wasn't long before his latest attachment made itself known, through violent outbursts and vomiting sessions.

Since I had arrived and began staying with Zak, I had seen him in all ranges of moods. From happy, sad, angry and numb. I would revel in the joy with him, but also guide him when things got tough and often, in his line of work, they did.

As if sensing her owners distress this evening, Gracie pads into the bedroom, giving me a curious look before hopping onto his bed and settling herself down beside him. With a gentle nudge of her nose, she stirs him out of the nightmare and accepts the loving pats he gives her.

Rolling onto his back, Zak sighs. "Sorry Grace."

She responds with a huff and soon falls asleep.

Looking over to the nightstand, Zak lifts his phone and checks the time, before heaving himself out of bed to use the bathroom. I get up from the chair and move to the bathroom door. Parting my lips to speak when he rushes from the sink where he was washing his hands, to lean over the toilet. After two dry heaves, Zak is sick, the force buckling his knees, falling onto the cold hard tiles, he stays there, staring down at the bowl.

"When is enough, enough?" I ask, moving to his side and placing my hand on his back.

His body shakes as he sucks in air, I can see from his pasty skin that his temperature is spiking again. But before I can suggest it, he pulls himself off the floor and rinses his mouth, then digs around in the bathroom cabinet for medicine. Crunching down some pills, he crawls back to bed where I retake my seat, in the corner.

I sit there quietly for a while, before I get up and move to sit on the side of the bed, putting my hand on his forehead. He gives a breathy sigh of relief, rolling his head to the side to look in my direction.

"You've got to cleanse properly." I tell him. "Sage, meditation and crystals. No more avoiding it."

Closing his eyes, he falls back to sleep and I wonder how much longer he is going to put himself through this? It's like some twisted form of punishment, for something I am not aware of. Staying close, I wait until he is in a deeper form of sleep, before retaking my chair, to watch over him in the moonlight.

***

Morning arrives and the answers to my prayers come with it.

Zak showers, dresses and manages to get food into his system, before he pulls out the sage and crystals. Pleased with this vast improvement, I stand back and allow him to perform his ritual. Wafting the smoke into each and every corner of the house, before sealing it off.

Whilst he finishes his cleansing ritual, I join Gracie in the garden and spend an hour playing ball with her. Zak appears a short time later, he looks relieved and at ease with himself again. The self infliction phase has passed.

Slumping down onto the seat beside me, he smiles, a breath-taking sight, after three days of what I can only describe as Hell for him. His eyes land on me, and I smile back.

"You've been here for so long. Through the best and worst of times. Last night you stayed with me, the entire night. I can feel you, sense you and I think you influence me to be a better person. Which is why, I want you and only you to stay. The armchair is yours. I have not cleansed that space, I have left it, just for you. So long as your intentions are good." He says.

"They are." I tell him.

As if he heard me, he flashes another smile, but his eyes do not fall on mine, instead they go through me. As tears build in mine, I reach out and place my hand on his cheek, hoping he can feel me.

For I am a spirit, bound to protect his wounded soul. The love I feel is true, but our worlds and our times will never collide as one.