You Can't Hurt Me

The sound of silence

Race pressed down with his pencil, he had broken the last three, completely overwhelmed with his essay draft on brain eating amoeba. His last pencil was on thin ice, his hand in extreme amounts of pain.

Race had a surplus of information on brain eating amoeba, so that wasn't the problem this time. No, it was the sound, more importantly the never ending buzz of that air conditioning. Race had almost hit it repeatedly with a hammer, however they were expensive to replace and Jack was already doing so much for him so he instead put on headphones. But after a while they started to hurt his ears, making them sore. Now he had nothing, and couldn't even find the space in his brain for the knowledge he needed behind all the buzz.

Brain eating amoeba...

Brain eating amoeba eat...

Brains.

Race groaned and threw his pencil out the window. It was 4 am, and he was currently running on 5 hours of sleep. In the middle of the night he had a very enlightening dream about amoeba eating his brain, and he realized that his essay draft was due tomorrow and he had already missed the last deadline for his last essay on rainforests preservation.

He didn't actually have to be at school until 8, so in retrospect he had plenty of time to go get some fresh air and he did want to visit his new favorite place. Besides he wasn't getting anywhere with this noise and he could always finish the essay there.

To avoid waking Jack, which he probably wouldn't but better safe than sorry, he climbed out of the window down the fire escape, retrieved his pencil, and took the scenic route there. The calm fresh silence already clearing some of the buzz in his mind. Looking away from the swirling words was also cleansing.

The air was still, leaving no worry of loosing his crap and no nightly chill to encourage his depart.

He swore the air smelled different here, less like gas and more like hibiscus flowers. He had never really had the grace of being at a place like this. Sure there were beer bottles across the edge, and the bushes were unkept and stuck out sharp with a lack of leaves, but in New York? This was paradise. Especially to someone such as Race who didn't get many paradises in his life.

With a newly found calm he grabbed his paper, leaning on his stomach to write the rest of his draft. His arms ached from the rough wood and he may have a splinter in his elbow but it was way more of a luxury than his room. His brain flowed much more smoothly in this sense, no distractions but the natural sound of running water and the soft rustle of crickets.

Brian eating amoeba travel through the nose into the frontal lobe. To do so, scientist suspect they target the chemicals in the nerves, specifically used for communication, hence the immediate entrance into the frontal lobe of the brain.

It was starting to near 6 am and Race wanted to see if he could get an extra hour and a half of sleep so he could be in better shape for a tiring full day of school, so he did a few small edits and went home, satisfied with his essay contents.

Surprisingly Jack was awake, and he was looking very stressed, rummaging around Race's room with his hand running through his hair.

"I've lost a whole child, again. How did I loose a child? He's not even a little child!" Jack stress rambled, opening the closet to peer inside.

Race would've preferred to slip in and pretend he was in there the whole time, but Jack looked very worried so he opened up the escape and climbed in.

"Hey Jack," Race said bright a cheery, but a little sheepish. Maybe he wouldn't get his sleep after all.

Jack whipped around and slumped, the worry lines on his forehead smoothing out.

"Race, where were you?" He asked his voice strained, "you weren't gambling again right?"