The Silver Six

Part 5

Allen woke early again, his breath ragged and his fingers numb. Wiping sweat from his neck and forehead with the corner of his blanket, he briefly wished he had taken the doctor up on his offer for medication to help with the nightmares. But it would be fine, he'd forget all about them soon enough. Taking a sip of water from a glass on his bedside table, Allen stretched and looked around the room in the dark. 

"I should try to sleep again," he mumbled half-heartedly.

A flashing light nearby caught his attention, and his heart jumped. Slowly, cautiously, Allen rolled from his bed and towards the light. Fumbling in the dark, he made his way towards it until he realized what it was. His phone. Letting out a sigh of relief, he picked it up, squinting as bright light blinded him. 

Putting in his passcode, he unlocked the phone and turned down the brightness to see what was causing the flashes of light. 

3 missed phone calls: Doctor Richmond

As if on cue, the Doctor's caller ID showed up on the screen and the phone buzzed lightly. Allen frowned and glanced at the time. 6:30. What did the doctor want at this time in the morning? Nervously, he answered.

"Hello?" he asked.

"Hello, Allen? I'm glad I got a hold of you!"

"Why are you calling me at six in the morning?" Allen demanded, his voice low with sleep.

"I need you to come in today as soon as possible. While looking through the test results from your last visit we found some alarming things. For instance, the scan showed that your stress levels and risk of seizures are elevated. As well as you've actually lost memories recently, more so than you've gained memories. It's rather alarming and I think it would be best if you came in so we could sort this out and get to the root of the problems," Doctor Richmond finished. "Is that alright Allen?"

"Yeah, I can come down after breakfast I guess," Allen sighed, wanting to slam his head into the nearby wall.

"Perfect, how does ten o'clock sound? My secretary is off right now but I can put in an appointment for you."

"Sure, yeah. Ten. Bye," he said, hanging up before the doctor could say anything else.

He sat for a moment, staring at his phone, his throat tightening with each breath. 

"God damn it!" he suddenly yelled, hurling the object across the room. 

Standing, he yanked the pillow from his bed, throwing it across the room, where it crashed into a lamp. 

"Why me!?" he yelped, nearly choking. "Why does everything have to go wrong?!"

A stray tear slid down his cheek and he wiped it away quickly before storming across the room and flicking on the light. 

"I'm sick of this," he hissed, picking up the lamp and pillow. 

************************************

A few hours later, Allen was dressed and driving down towards the Cafe, hoping that coffee would soothe his nerves before what he had no doubt would be a grating doctor's visit. He ambled up the steps and through the door and was enveloped in warm air that smelled of ground coffee and burnt toast. Cassie was at the counter, scribbling absentmindedly on a notepad.

"Good morning!" she greeted cheerily.

"Morning," Allen replied, forcing a small smile. 

Digging a hand in his pocket, he pulled out a few crumpled dollars and two quarters. He set them onto the counter and sighed. 

"I'll just have coffee this morning," he said as he sat.

"You sure?" Cassie asked as she whisked the money away. "You really need to eat more."

"I had a snack before I left the house," Allen lied, not wanting her to worry over him.

"Alright," she shrugged, turning from the register to the coffee machine.

Other than a slightly irritating country song humming over the speakers, it was silent. A fan buzzed in the corner, and the coffee machine whirred in a way that set Allen's teeth grinding. He was so focused on the irritating noise that he almost didn't notice when Cassie set the coffee down in front of him. He blinked and mumbled his thanks, wrapping his cold fingers around the hot paper cup. But he didn't move to sip the drink. He simply sat, his eyes staring down at the rising steam, his mind elsewhere. Needles. Sterile white. Lab coats. Pills and papers. He fought back a shudder. 

"Take me away, take me to the stars-" came the fuzzy lyrics of the song. "To where we belong-"

He was suffocating. He needed air. NOW.

Nearly gasping, he stood and shot towards the door, tunnel vision overtaking him. He shoved open the glass door and darted towards the back of the shop, where no one would see him. Once he turned the corner, he collapsed against the wall, his hands shaking.

"I don't want to," he almost whimpered. 

Things were black and white. No, wait, the colors were too violent. He wanted to scream. He wanted to curl up into a ball. Run and hide. But he couldn't. He couldn't run away. He couldn't cry. He couldn't breathe. So he simply sat on the ground, his legs drawn close and his hands clutching at his aching chest. He sat there until the chill of the cigarette littered concrete beneath him reached his skin. Until he could look around him and actually see things. Until he realized that he was going to be late. And then he headed to his car, leaving a confused Cassie and his now cold coffee behind.