CRIME BOOK 101

Bad Dream

"Ugh!" His neck was gripped tightly; two large hands were choking him with all their might, making it impossible for him to breathe. Dakota struggled to free himself from those hands, but he couldn't; his strength was fading. The massive figure pinned him down and continued to choke him, even pressing on his chest. He was gasping for air, and no matter how hard he tried to draw in a breath, it was slipping away. Soon, he thought, he might die.  

But...  

A dream. Suddenly, Dakota opened his eyes and could only see darkness around him. His breathing was heavy, but at least he could catch his breath again. It was just a dream—his bed, his room, a nightmare that had haunted him repeatedly, feeling so real that it could have killed him.

The trauma overwhelmed him. As a psychiatrist, he could read the deepest thoughts of every first-class criminal's brain he had worked with but he missed the most important thing. He even opened some free consultation sections at social institutions for some people who suffer from deep trauma. But, what about him? He could also lose himself, he could also go crazy, and he might also become a psychopath like those people. Who can help him?

Dakota got up from his bed, his whole body drenched in sweat, his head feeling unbearably heavy, and the pain in his blistered hand throbbed intensely, torturing him. He, the one who was always strong in the face of storms could not even cope with the severe allergy attack he had suffered since he was younger, it could even kill him with ease, such a lame.

"Heh" he lowered his legs from the bed and sat for a while still catching his breath, his head was so heavy and the room seemed to spin around him.

It was still dark out there, the digital clock on the table beside his bed showed two in the morning. There was a snoring sound in the corner of the room, Sam was sleeping very soundly on the couch with his legs stretched out long to the floor.

"Come on, Rina, catch that guy..." he mumbled in his sleep.

Dakota stood up and slowly made his way to the bathroom, maybe to splash some water on his face before going back to sleep, at least until the bad effects of the dream faded away.

**

As morning approached, sunlight filled the apartment room on the fifteenth floor. Sam, who had been sleeping soundly on the couch, opened his eyes as the vibration of his phone in his pocket woke him up. "Yawn," still half-asleep, he answered the call. "What's up?" 

The young detective straightened up; he had fallen asleep in Dakota's apartment, and the young man was no longer in his bed where he had left him the night before. He could hear the sound of water running in the toilet, probably Dakota was taking a shower. 

Sam pushed the blanket aside, feeling sore in several places from an uncomfortable sleeping position all night. "Yeah, please take it back to the lab. Last night Dakota was holding it, and his hand got burned; it seems like there's some dangerous chemical. Just do the cross check on the others too" 

Sam walked over to the bathroom, and not long after, the sound of water stopped. Dakota emerged, his hair still wet, wearing a bathrobe that revealed a bit of his fit upper body, looking at Sam as if he was blocking his way. 

Sam lifted Dakota's right hand, which had been wrapped in a bandage the night before; it was wet, making Sam glare at Dakota sharply as if scolding him. "Rina, I’ll call you back later, report the test results, okay?" 

Sam pulled Dakota toward the sofa. "Sam, let go of my hand." 

"Come on, didn’t you hear what the doctor said? Don’t let your hand stay wet; what if it gets infected? You’re a doctor, and you don’t understand this kind of thing?" 

Sam forced Dakota to sit while he pulled out a medicine box from under the table. 

"I’m a psychologist; this has nothing to do with me." 

Sam looks furious while holding the young man's hand to keep him from running away.

"Well, it does!"

Not long after, both sitting on the sofa. The sun shone so bright through the large window that opened to the balcony of the luxurious VIP apartment. Fax lives there alone.

Carefully Sam discloses the wet bandage on Dakota's hand. The young man has no expression at all and even doesn't feel pain or anything, although Sam knows he was holding it.

Sam pressed the hand which still blistered on purpose, just so he could hear Dakota moaning.

"Akh! Be gentle Sam, it's hurt!"

Sam smiled, at least the professor was still a human being who could feel the pain.

"I thought you become painless now?"

"Don't make fun of me Sam, it's not funny" Dax looked at Sam annoyed. 

Sam laughs. The young professor's eyebrows furrow so high as he is about to eat him with his eyes.

"Forgive me, I didn't mean to. You can't go to campus with this hand, why don't you rest at home for a while, the doctor said the medicine will also make you a bit sleepy"

"I don't take it"

Sam raises his head.

"Why don't you? This professor being so disobeyed"

"As you said, I'll get sleepy, and I still can go there, I could use both hands to write, no problems at all" said Dakota.

Sam pursed his lips, who doesn't know about the very genius and multi-talented young professor in front of him? Who can do almost anything he could think of. And that including, being super stubborn.

"Well, there's nothing to lose to have a day or two off, that lunatic being targeting you, they maybe can attack you while you alone out there"

"University is full of students and staff, who can attack me there? I'm not a kid, I think I can protect myself very well"

Sam finishes bandaging Dakota's hand, and for a while, he keeps holding it, the young man has a very smooth hand with slender fingers, unconsciously he keeps staring at it. Dakota pulled his hand.

"Are you done?"

Sam smiled, the young detective being awkward instantly, he stood up fast.

"Yeah, it's done! Don't let it wet again, please my dear sweet professor, we need you alive" said Sam while putting on his very silly face.

"Jughead!"