A Beautiful Torment

15. Overdose

It was like somebody had lit a torch behind my eyeballs; the whole room appeared in high definition from the tiny, specks of dirt scattered across the floor to the dust motes in the air. Perfect clarity.

I felt too alive, too electric, like if I moved my head too fast, my whole world would start spinning. My thoughts spin faster than normal and I swore I could feel the blood in my veins sizzle with every beat of my too-fast heart.

I lay back on the hospital bed, forcing myself to regulate my breathing. It was too much, too fast – I couldn't turn it off. I was a nexus of emotion, absorbing every feeling within a couple hundred metre radius. I could feel it sinking into my skin through my pores and diffusing in my blood.

I was pretty sure I was about to have a heart attack. Each individual heartbeat felt like a painful spasm in my chest, like the energy in my blood was slowly solidifying and my heart couldn't handle the pressure.

Panic blistered through me. Make it stop, make it stop, make it stop.

I pushed myself off the bed with shaking hands, my feet hitting the cold floor with a quiet slap. The sound echoed through my head, too loud and too clear. My head started to pound in synchronization with my heart.

I fumbled for the door handle, the panic escalating by the second.

Make it stop, make it stop, make it stop.

I yanked the door open. Fragments of metal came apart in my hand and I shook my fingers out, watching as the dirty, silver particles scattered across the floor, glinting in the sunlight.

Make it stop, make it stop, make it –

"Wyatt!"

I winced, gently cover my ears with my hands. I squinted at my visitor, my eyes burning from the glare of the sun on her blond hair.

Isabel's eyes were bright with terror and I could feel it, stronger than anything else I could feel in this godforsaken place. It was different than before, less concentrated, more... confused. How long had it been since I felt her presence disappear? How far had she gotten before she felt compelled to return, fear or no?

For one, hellish moment, I thought she might have been on fire, but then I realized the heat was radiating out of me. I stared at her, eyes wide with horror.

Make it stop, make it stop, make it stop, I begged mentally.

"Oh, hell." She cast a hasty glance behind her, checking for prying nurses, before she kicked the door closed with her foot.

She approached me slowly, careful and wary. I could feel her caution, thrumming through my veins. It wasn't helping, it was making things worse. I thought my head might split open at any second with the force of the pounding.

"Here, sit down." She pushed me toward the bed. The loose grip of her tiny, girly hands was like a vice to my heightened senses. The hairs on the back of my arms stood on end.

"I c-can't t-turn it off," I admitted. My teeth chattered with every word.

"I know, I can feel it," she said. "Close your eyes."

I squeezed my eyes shut. Stars bloomed beneath my lids. My clothes felt scratchy and heavy against my skin and I suddenly wanted to strip them off.

Her fear pulsed through me like electricity.

"Y-your f-fear," I chattered.

I felt her quiet, shaky sigh. She was so, so close. I didn't like people invading my personal space, usually. My first instinct was always to flinch away and put some deliberate distance between them and me.