The pain was almost unbearable.
He rolled on his back, trying to muffle the sound of his groan. He held his voice down his throat as he arched his back in excruciating hurt, the back of his head digging into his pillow as his mouth opened wide, ready to scream.
The pain faded away, and he turned to sleep, only to make it come back like a freight train. He held onto his sheets as tightly as he could, as if the constant throbbing was going to lessen because of it and struggled to get his medicine from the bedside table. His eyes were filled with tears that threatened to escape as he felt his face heat up from his silenced cries.
Then the pain grew and he screamed.
His voice echoed through his whole apartment, and he didn't care, he didn't care if anyone could hear or see him. He didn't care if he'd wake up the neighbors. He just wanted the pain to stop but that was as ridiculous as trying to stop a boulder from crushing you to bits, and that was what he felt before he ran out of breath. He tossed and turned and screamed and stopped and breathed, then doing the same again once the pain comes back over and over.
He fell on his stomach in the bed. He didn't need medicine. He didn't need medicine. He doesn't want those anymore. He doesn't need to-
The tears had escaped when it went through his spine onto his head, punching and digging into his brain like a chisel.
He screamed as he reached for his bottle of medicine. He screamed when he had no power to move towards it. He screamed when the pain were like scorching nails down his spine and his head felt as if it was going to be squeezed and split in half.
The sympathetic smile of a small child he used to know was his last thought before he fell fast asleep.
"Cassie."
