Short Stories

This is what he wanted

He felt each each breath drag along his windpipe, all the way down to his lungs, before he used all his energy to exhale the same air. His face was red. Anger, sadness, everything, it was all showing through his glistening hazel eyes. The floor was cool against his overheated body and the floorboards dug awkwardly into his spine. The room spun, the ceiling stayed stock still. His body shook. This was what he wanted. One hand spasmed and knocked a glass of water over beside his body. The glass smashed. He felt the cold liquid soak into his cotton clothing, but his paralyzed body moved not one inch. The pain was excruciating. This was what he wanted. He heard feet pattering through the dark house but all fear had exited his body. His body fell still once again. The smell of his own vomit wafted his way. If his body was function, he was sure he would have gagged at the smell. His eyes began to droop. The pattering of feet stopped outside his bedroom floor. The floorboards felt like knives sticking into his spine. He cried. It was a silent, motionless cry, producing no tears. He heard the door creak open. He panicked, this was what he wanted.