The Addict's Weakness

Chapter 5: Lack of Sanity & Lukey-Poo

The Mad Hatter: "Have I gone mad?"
Alice: "I'm afraid so. You're entirely bonkers. But I'll tell you a secret. All the best people are." -Alice In Wonderland

* * *

"Well, what are you waiting for? Go on! Leave me!" A voice cried out.

He wasn't even in the same room as them, but he could hear their anger, practically watch it like a movie displayed in front of the boy.

His fingers were shaking as he clutched his pillow tightly. The tremors wouldn't leave his body once the yelling had started, and they wouldn't depart until his dreams took over all his senses. Tears ran down his face, voices in his head screaming, begging to escape from here. 'Run! Get away from here!' they seemed to be saying. The boy tried curling into a ball to calm down his emotions, nuzzling his wet face into the shampoo-scented pillow, but he was still a shivering leaf, the coldness refusing to let up.

He was tired of this. Sick of it. All this commotion made him want to throw up. Throw up all of his guts, his feelings, and his entire life. They were constantly arguing now, every night before he would sleep. His mother and father handled him in an endless tug-o'-war, but the boy yearned to break free from both of their grasps. It was a dark aura that had drowned their home in a depressing nightmare for the longest time, and all he was hoping for a tiny bit of light and happiness. Even a spark of it.

With each yell, shout, and holler, the throbbing in his head continued to pulse, hard enough that he felt his world slowly dissolving and dulling. It was a sickening roller coaster ride with its different words as turns and volumes as flips.

"Stop it! Nobody told you to care!"

"Nobody told you to tell me what to do either! But look what's happening right now!"

"What?! You mean us fighting? Because I realized we were doing that a while ago!"

The taste of metal inside caused him to realize his teeth had been clasping his tongue into a vice grip for a while, trying to stop the saddened hiccups.

He squeezed his eyes shut, tighter than a clam shell. The noise turned into a faint buzzing; his tears brought him a cold refreshment to help clear his mind; his body grew as weak and limp as a cooked noodle; the voices in his head gradually quit their begging for escape and changed to a comforting 'let's just forget about this and go to sleep' sense.

But it was still impossible. Impossible to think, impossible to sleep, impossible to even breathe. Everything was spinning so fast that even the words angrily battling at each other on the lower floor seemed to be twirling in a haunting dance.

The boy's stomach churned upsettingly again, but he refused to get up, to move. He just wanted to lay there for eternity; believing he might never have to go back to school was the only positive thought in his entire subconscious. Thoughts about the blackness that many saw as they were dying started to crawl into his mind, and in that moment, in his fourteen-year-old body, he couldn't have wished harder to be anywhere but here.

Even if that meant seven feet underground.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"You just never quit, do you?"

He parted his lips in a sigh. The girl was back. Not the partially annoying, persistent, though not-half-badly-dressed chick, no. But the owner of his smoking joint.

"So what if I don't?" Leaning his head back, he exhaled gray smoke into the dirty atmosphere. "It's none of your concern, Princess."

Nobody else's either. At lunchtime, no one checked up on him. No friends, no problem. And today, luckily, he saw that the back wall of prison was open, and Lukas couldn't just take up the chance to enjoy his place away from home.