Lore

Prometheus

    Neon's head was pounding, he had to get out, somewhere quiet where he could think clearly. He threw on his hoodie and went to the bathroom to grab some Tylenol.

    He opened the medicine cabinet and grabbed his well-used bottle of acetaminophen, turning on the faucet for some water.

    Neon cupped water in is hand and washed down four pills, his head still piercing with pain.

    He stared at the bottle for a moment, wishing for a return to normal. To late night papers, editing résumés, pointless calls with his mother. He wanted to feel like himself again.

    He took a deep breath and closed the medicine cabinet.

    "Neon."

    Neon's eyes widened and his stomach dropped. There in the mirror was Kat Anderson, eyes bloodshot, her hair tangled and brown from dried blood, her mouth cracked, wet from the fresh blood flowing out as she breathed.

    Neon wanted to scream, but he felt like he was breathing in water. The air was so stiff and so cold, he couldn't move, he couldn't speak. Surely what he was seeing couldn't be real.

    "Neon, help me." Kat said, tears mixed with blood streaming down her face.

    Neon finally took in a ragged breath and squeezed his eyes shut, clutching his hair in his hands. "This isn't real." He whispered.

    Tears pooling in his eyes, his head remained in his hands as he tried to slow his breathing, to calm his mind. He began breathing in and out slowly, trying to fend off his fight or flight response. Carefully, he lifted his head and peeked up at the mirror, now empty, now normal.

    Neon exhaled sharply, a breath of relief. He let out a breathy chuckle from nerves. "I'm losing it, I must be. I've got to get her out of my head."

    He straightened up, still trembling, grabbed his book-bag and headed down stairs.

    George looked up from his paper as he heard Neon coming down the stairs. He could see his face, and see that he had been crying.

    "Neon?" George called.

    But Neon was out the door before he could say anything else. George stared at the door, thinking of how he couldn't help his son.

    He dropped his paper, and cried.