What He Does to Me (V.2)

Chapter 5

My eyelids fly open with sudden violence, forced open by the red-hot pain that suddenly surges through every corner of every fibre of muscle I have in my body.

Restraining myself from crying out, I try to blink away sleep, as well as tears that are starting to form in the corners of my eyes.

What time is it?

I can't see any light anywhere, except for a faint flickering that emanates from under my door. It must be close to midnight.

I take deep breaths, reminding myself that this sort of thing happens all the time. Sometimes, you are just woken up in the middle of the night by an unbearable pain that you have to bear, because you really have no other choice. Sometimes, your body hates you a little more than usual, and there's not a lot you can do about it.

I clench my jaw. It hurts way more than usual, though.

Or is that something I say every time? Maybe I just forget how bad it was the last time, so this time feels extra terrible.

One thought echoes in my mind. I shouldn't have tried to get out of bed myself. I'm going to be dealing with the effects of that for a long, painful time.

All I have to do is go back to sleep. It'll be better in the morning.

That's easier said than done when it feels like your bones are on fire, though. I wish I hadn't cursed the dull, aching pains that I normally feel. Anything is better than this.

The breaths echoing in my lungs are shaky and forced, like the gasps of a man who's been running a marathon. I lay in bed for about half a second more, before the warmth of a tear involuntarily rolling down my cheek makes me realize that I can't do this.

"Help—!" I gasp, my voice shaky. I don't know what else to do.

Undue panic begins to set in, and I try to call a little louder.

"Is anybody there? I need help—!"

I wait for a response, my heart rate accelerating. My chest feels tight, and I take short gulps of air as I begin to hyperventilate.

"Hey—!"

Nothing. Not a damn thing. 

I can't stay here. I can't stay in bed. I'll die if I don't get help. I need something, some medicine, a warm water bottle, something!

A crack of flickering light filters through the door.

I should go find help.

Digging my nails into the table beside my bed, I pull myself out of bed. My muscles scream under the pressure, and it feels like every fibre is fraying away as I move. I crumple onto the ground with a resounding thud that knocks the breath out of my already struggling lungs. I cry out, involuntarily.

Damn it. Damn it all to hell. Curse this wretched body of mine!

A frantic sort of desperation wells in my chest, spilling out of my eyes. Salt stains my cheeks and stings my tongue as I drag myself inch by inch to the door.

I don't want to die. I don't want this to be the end for me.

Please, please, please! 

I try and plead with whatever spirits may be watching over me right now. I know I haven't been the most useful human being alive, but surely even I don't deserve to die like this.

My head bumps up against the door, and I weakly try to throw my fists against its solid wood. 

"Help—!"

It's no use, though. I barely make an impact, much less any sort of noise. Exhausted, I lay in the dark, my face against the cold wood. I draw my aching limbs in towards myself, trying to curl up into a more comfortable position, for all the good in the world it'll do me. The silence in the air presses up against my throat and forces hot tears down my face as I do my best to hold them back, to no avail. My limited vision is starting to blur, the pain is getting dizzying.