Death Wish

Chapter 13

It's 2013. Mikey has been having trouble sleeping lately, but not because he isn't tired. He's afraid to sleep. The worst part is, I can't figure out why he's like this. He's been scared speechless for weeks.

I roll over in my own bed, mattress creaking beneath me. Ironically I'm losing sleep as well; I can't relax with the reality of my brother going through such a confusing and unhealthy phase.

Shit, I hope it's a phase. I shift once more in my bed and check the clock resting on the windowsill in front of me. 

3:01 A.M.

I breathe out a soft yet exhausted sigh. I kick the covers from my body and slump out of bed.

~ ~ ~

My tacky socks don't cross the line into my brother's room. I peek into the dark corner, focusing in on the lump lying there with a single light and a book.

"Still awake, Mikey?" I ask.

He merely nods in answer, not looking back at me. I tip my head to look at my feet that still don't dare to take another step. I don't want to invade his space anymore than I already have.

So I try to be gentle. "Why won't you sleep?"

Mikey simply curls in tighter and focuses on his reading. He sniffs and pushes his glasses up his nose to emphasize he's too busy for my concern.

That's when I finally invite myself into the bedroom. I'm not letting this get any worse, I'm quite literally stepping in to help. 

Mikey shifts to glare over his shoulder at me. I raise my hands in surrender, "You're probably going to fall asleep reading that, huh? You've read that dozens of times . . . you wanna go for a drive instead?"

His look softens ever so slightly. He closes his book and clicks his reading light off.

~ ~ ~

We both pile in; both usual positions are assumed, mine being driver and Mikey being shotgun.

I'm relieved that we're finally able to do something together, even if it is helping Mikey do something that's been driving me crazy. 

The keys stick into the ignition and turn, sending the engine coughing and the wheels rolling us out of the driveway into a pitch black Belleville.

Mikey sits there, rubbing behind his glasses and straining his ringed eyes to stay awake. He's far past tired - he's been obliterated with the aftermath of deprivation. He's a mess with his unbrushed hair, dirty clothes, and slouched tired figure. He looks hollow sitting in the passenger seat; he's lost weight from stress and lack of self care. If he were any worse he'd be dead.

A worry line crosses my forehead just looking at him. "You want something to eat?"

He numbly nods, sniffing again and plopping his hands down to his lap. I try to ease a smile at him encouragingly when he looks to me, but all I get back are strained lips rather than a smile.

I sigh and look back to the road. "Choose a station, huh? We ought to listen to something the way down there."

Mikey nods once more and uncertainly looks to the radio. His fingers hesitate at what to do before finally turning the device on and turning the knob to search between the static.

Chhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhzzzzztt......

Click.

'Drinking black coffee, black coffee, drinking black coffee, staring at the wall

Black coffee, black coffee, black coffee, staring at the wall
Black coffee, drinking black coffee, drinking black coffee, staring at the...
Stab through my heart, stab through my heart, stab through my heart
But its all in my mind, mind, mind, mind
Just in my mind, mind, mind, mind
It's just in my mind, yeaaaaaaaaa!'