Once again, Norris Moore woke up from a nightmare.
It was the same nightmare that he had countless times recently.
It had even gotten to the point where it was affecting his sleep.
He slowly sat up in bed, feeling the cold sweat on his face, breathing rapidly, and his heart racing.
He knew he was suffering from post-traumatic stress disorder. That day's events had left him deeply frightened, and the moment he closed his eyes, the blood-stained fangs of the Tibetan Mastiff biting his neck would appear.
If it weren't for experiencing life and death, he wouldn't know that he was actually so timid that even a dog could scare him half to death.
Daylight had fully arrived, and he dragged his tired body out of bed. A servant knocked on the door: "Miss Moore, are you ready for breakfast?"
"Mmm," Norris Moore replied casually. "I'll be there in a minute."
He stepped into the bathroom wearing his slippers and picked up his toothbrush.
