Just Don't Die

No help

Blaine woke up to a headache he hadn't experienced in over six months. It took him nearly thirty seconds to remember where he was. When his memories of the previous night flooded back to him, he realized that those thirty seconds were probably going to be the best thirty seconds of his whole day.

"Hello?" Blaine tried.

The anticipation of hearing the imaginary voice was only tempered by the heaviness of the absolute silence that followed the echo of Blaine's own voice.

Blaine crawled out of bed, only now realizing he was still fully dressed and only his shoes had not made it into bed with him. When he walked into the kitchen he saw the bottle of scotch on the table and immediately found himself running for the bathroom. After emptying both his stomach and his bladder, he returned to the kitchen and began cleaning up. He instinctively checked his phone, once again he was reminded that there was no service and no way to get a hold of anyone.

He grabbed a glass and a bottle of orange juice out of the fridge. He took a moment to look at the bottle and smiled as he saw it was fresh squeezed just two days before. The luxuries that Kalvin probably takes for granted on a daily basis were not lost of Blaine. He slowly drank the entire glass and filled it once more. It was easily the best orange juice that he had ever had.

His hang over told him that he shouldn't risk eating anything, but his stomach growled a different opinion. He decided he would make breakfast, all the while hoping his day would be better than the previous night, and then see how he felt afterwards. He didn't really know what to think at this point. He hadn't heard the voice yet, but didn't want to think about not hearing it in case that brought it back. He decided on a bowl of cereal, then he would head down the road to get service and just see what Dr. Latourney thought about it. He would expect some obvious judgmental chastising from Dr. Latourney, but to be fair, he more than deserved it. What he did was stupid, and even if it didn't trigger schizophrenia, it didn't gain him anything.

Or did it? He knew now what he needed to be happy. More than happy, content. He knew it deep in his bones, that he would probably keep trying to find that other reality. He wasn't sure how, but if he thought about it long enough, the vision itself would probably tell him what he needed to do.

He quickly finished his cereal and set out to find some cell service. As he climbed into his truck and started backing out of the garage, he heard it again.

"Blaine."

He was so hopeful that it was nothing more than a dream or a drug induce temporary psychotic break. Nope. That fucking voice was still there.

"Blaine, I can get out of your head, but I need your help."

Blaine ignored the voice but knew he needed to talk to someone. He drove his truck down the driveway, out the gate and then kept watching his phone, waiting for just one bar to pop up.

"I don't want to be stuck here any more than you want me to be here. You do not have schizophrenia, Blaine."

Again he refused to give the voice any power over him and simply kept driving down the winding dirt road, hoping for some signal soon.

"Blaine, please. I knew this was risky, but let's be honest, I didn't even think I would be able to get this far. I had truly accepted this as such a long shot that I didn't even believe I would make it here. Now I'm stuck in a body that's not mine and I need to get out."

Such an odd remark for a hallucination. He'd read about auditory hallucinations telling people to hurt others or kill themselves or even feeding into paranoia. This voice simply sounded like he wanted to get out. Very odd.

Blaine slammed on the brakes and held his phone out the window. That should do it. He immediately called Dr. Latourney.

Straight to voice mail. Makes sense. It was still early on a Saturday morning. Blaine called the next number.