sleep.

Chapter V: Insomnia

Present day

     Malcolm looks outside his window after getting comfortable in bed. A tear goes down his cheek. He wants to find out why thunderstorms made him so emotional. He wanted to know so bad, but no one would tell him. Everyone wanted to spare his feelings.
     Malcolm yawned. It was getting late, and all he wanted right now was to escape reality and dream. But of course, that couldn’t happen.
     Malcolm watches the rain outside his window pour onto the roofs of his neighbourhood. He saw a strike of lightning, and jumped a bit. Then another. Then another. But the third one… The third one was… different. The third bolt of lightning made a weird shape. It was the same shape he saw on the bumps of his ceiling. The same human-like figure of someone he could’ve sworn he recognized.
     Malcolm jumped even more when the third bolt of lightning struck. His heart raced rapidly. It wasn’t the sound of the thunder that made him jump, or the sudden sight of the lightning. No, he felt as if it meant something more than that. Something significant.
     Suddenly, Malcolm heard a loud ringing noise in his ears. He tried to drown them out with his pillow, but they just got louder and louder. He saw his window open and close rapidly, making a loud thud every time it closed. He started to hear voices. Voices of adults laughing at him and telling him how useless a little teen like him is. He hid under his blanket and held his legs close to his chest. He heard the sounds of his bedroom ceiling breaking apart and felt the heavy weight of the pieces of the roof falling on him. He felt as if he was losing breath. He wanted to get out of there. He was gonna die if he stayed.
     “STOP!” He shouted.
     The voices stopped. The ringing slowly quieted down until it was silent. He looked out from under his blanket. The roof was back together. The window stopped slamming. Everything was back to normal. Well, except for him. He was shaking, tears falling from his eyes. He was terrified. Although, he’s not new to this. He experiences these schizophrenia episodes almost every night after he goes to bed. He’s gotten used to it, but it's still terrifying every time.
     Malcolm checked the time on his phone.
12:47am
     He groaned. He was tired as fuck. He wanted to sleep so badly, but he just couldn’t. He got up from his bed and thought, “I’ll just get some NyQuil. Hopefully they won’t notice that there’s less in the bottle, or I’m fucked.” He meant “they” as in his parents.
     Malcolm headed downstairs and into the kitchen. He opened the cabinet that holds all the cough drops and medicine. He took out the bottle of NyQuil, squeezed the cap, and twisted it, taking it off. He pours some into the cap over the sink, then drinks from the cap.
     “I’m tired of not sleeping,” He thought, “I can’t even remember the last time I had a dream.”
     Malcolm put the bottle back into the cabinet and closed it. He then started to head back upstairs into his room. He flopped onto his bed face first and groaned. “I haaate insomnia sooo fuckiiing muuuch.”
     He turns around onto his back and pulls the blanket over him, laying his head on his pillow. He yawns. His eyes are getting heavy, and every time he tries to keep them open, they sting, and he has no choice but to close them. He groans one last time before he falls asleep. Hopefully, he’ll enjoy his first dream.