above was still cold and inhospitable. He’d never been asleep, only lost inside the void his mind became when the physical agony went beyond the icepick-through-the-skull level of pain and became … just too much.
There was a difference, though. Silver lights still clouded his vision, and his head still hurt, but there was a small sense of pleasure that accompanied the pain. Ally was holding his hand. She sat beside him on the couch and her fingers were entwined with his.
How long had he been ignoring her? Obviously not very long if her cab hadn’t even arrived yet.
“Sorry. I didn’t know – I mean, I can’t predict when this is going to happen.” He motioned toward his head, hating the way his words came out sounding slightly slurred.
“Don’t worry about it. Like I said, my aunt gets migraines – I know they’re unpredictable and can be intense.” She met his gaze and kept her fingers tangled with his.
There was no point in pulling away, not after everything she’d witnessed already. Besides, he didn’t want to. Her touch felt so good he was almost ashamed of how much he liked it. He nodded and immediately regretted it as the pain in his head flared, defying him to move again.
“I’ll be right back. I’m just going to use your restroom if that’s okay.” She let go of his hand and stood.
His head was too heavy and the memory of the pain caused by simply nodding was too fresh for him to watch her walk across the living room.
When the sound of the bathroom door being closed came, he mustered up the last of his dwindling supply of willpower and rose – slowly, painfully and barely. For at least thirty seconds, he stood leaning heavily on the couch, trying to get enough of a grasp on his equilibrium to walk.
Eventually, he succeeded. His throat burned as he crossed the living room, gaze fixed on the sink. He’d meant to fill and drink another glass of water after taking his pills, but then he’d dropped the tumbler and everything had gone to shit. He’d get a drink while Ally was in the bathroom. He just—
The world exploded in pain and light, both stronger than any of the agony he’d experienced yet that night. Darkness warred with the multi-colored spots dancing in front of his eyes, threatening to invade his vision and plunge him into unconsciousness. He felt the pull of it and the way his body wanted to give in, but pure fury kept him alert. Sort of.
Literally blinded by the light, he reached out. His fingertips encountered the smooth wood-paneled side of the island countertop that divided the kitchen area from the living area. What the fuck? He was on the floor beside it, and he didn’t even remember falling.
Rage boiled inside him, heating his face. Or maybe that was blood streaming down. Yeah. “Fuck!” That was what it was. It dripped down onto the linoleum, dotting the floor with redness that quickly began to puddle.
He was living in the past, always a few moments behind. He did things – things like dropping glasses and falling and hurting himself – and he didn’t even realize until it was over, until it was too late. That was the most infuriating thing of all, the thing about himself – and there were a lot of things – that he hated the most.
Sometimes his mind failed like a train jumping off its tracks, leaving him disconnected with the things that were going on around him and even happening to him, with the timeline that the rest of the world was living on. He was a fucking train wreck.
Ally came out of the bathroom and arrived on the scene of his latest disaster at the worst possible moment, before he’d had a chance to even try to stand. The sound of her footsteps echoed through his skull, amplifying the ache inside, and he was hyper-aware of the fact that he wasn’t just sitting on the floor but slumping, defeat bending his spine, evident in every last goddamn vertebra.
“You’re bleeding.” He didn’t realize she’d crouched beside him until she spoke
There was a difference, though. Silver lights still clouded his vision, and his head still hurt, but there was a small sense of pleasure that accompanied the pain. Ally was holding his hand. She sat beside him on the couch and her fingers were entwined with his.
How long had he been ignoring her? Obviously not very long if her cab hadn’t even arrived yet.
“Sorry. I didn’t know – I mean, I can’t predict when this is going to happen.” He motioned toward his head, hating the way his words came out sounding slightly slurred.
“Don’t worry about it. Like I said, my aunt gets migraines – I know they’re unpredictable and can be intense.” She met his gaze and kept her fingers tangled with his.
There was no point in pulling away, not after everything she’d witnessed already. Besides, he didn’t want to. Her touch felt so good he was almost ashamed of how much he liked it. He nodded and immediately regretted it as the pain in his head flared, defying him to move again.
“I’ll be right back. I’m just going to use your restroom if that’s okay.” She let go of his hand and stood.
His head was too heavy and the memory of the pain caused by simply nodding was too fresh for him to watch her walk across the living room.
When the sound of the bathroom door being closed came, he mustered up the last of his dwindling supply of willpower and rose – slowly, painfully and barely. For at least thirty seconds, he stood leaning heavily on the couch, trying to get enough of a grasp on his equilibrium to walk.
Eventually, he succeeded. His throat burned as he crossed the living room, gaze fixed on the sink. He’d meant to fill and drink another glass of water after taking his pills, but then he’d dropped the tumbler and everything had gone to shit. He’d get a drink while Ally was in the bathroom. He just—
The world exploded in pain and light, both stronger than any of the agony he’d experienced yet that night. Darkness warred with the multi-colored spots dancing in front of his eyes, threatening to invade his vision and plunge him into unconsciousness. He felt the pull of it and the way his body wanted to give in, but pure fury kept him alert. Sort of.
Literally blinded by the light, he reached out. His fingertips encountered the smooth wood-paneled side of the island countertop that divided the kitchen area from the living area. What the fuck? He was on the floor beside it, and he didn’t even remember falling.
Rage boiled inside him, heating his face. Or maybe that was blood streaming down. Yeah. “Fuck!” That was what it was. It dripped down onto the linoleum, dotting the floor with redness that quickly began to puddle.
He was living in the past, always a few moments behind. He did things – things like dropping glasses and falling and hurting himself – and he didn’t even realize until it was over, until it was too late. That was the most infuriating thing of all, the thing about himself – and there were a lot of things – that he hated the most.
Sometimes his mind failed like a train jumping off its tracks, leaving him disconnected with the things that were going on around him and even happening to him, with the timeline that the rest of the world was living on. He was a fucking train wreck.
Ally came out of the bathroom and arrived on the scene of his latest disaster at the worst possible moment, before he’d had a chance to even try to stand. The sound of her footsteps echoed through his skull, amplifying the ache inside, and he was hyper-aware of the fact that he wasn’t just sitting on the floor but slumping, defeat bending his spine, evident in every last goddamn vertebra.
“You’re bleeding.” He didn’t realize she’d crouched beside him until she spoke
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