I spend the day in bed. Curtains drawn tight against the afternoon sun. The fabric glows red where the light bleeds through. Even that's too much. Lights off. Even the digital clock on my nightstand feels too bright, so I turn it to face the wall. The red numbers leave afterimages when I close my eyes. Ghostly and accusing.
I try to sleep through the pain.
It doesn't work.
Every time I close my eyes, my head pounds harder. Like something is using my skull as a drum. Rhythmic. Relentless. Maddening. The ache radiates from the base of my skull down my neck, across my shoulders. Spreads like poison through my bloodstream. My skin feels too tight. Too hot. Like I'm being cooked from the inside out.
I kick off the blankets. My legs tangle in them. I fight free, limbs heavy and uncooperative. Then I'm shivering, so I pull them back on.
My teeth chatter. My whole body shakes. Then I'm burning again, sweat soaking through my shirt, and I have to tear the blankets off.
Off. On. Off. On.
Nothing helps.
Nothing is ever enough.
Around six, I hear voices downstairs. Muffled through the floor, but I recognize them.
Richard and Margot.
Getting ready to leave.
"...reservation at seven..."
"...be back late, so don't wait up..."
The front door closes.
Silence.
I'm alone in the house with the brothers.
Perfect.
My phone buzzes somewhere on my desk. I ignore it.
The headache sharpens into something unbearable. Transforms. Evolves. Becomes something alive and vicious. A creature with claws that tear at the inside of my skull Like someone's taking a hammer to the inside of my skull.
I need painkillers.
Ibuprofen. Tylenol. Anything. Something. Anything to dull the edges. To make me feel human again.
I drag myself out of bed. My legs feel like they're made of lead. Every movement is underwater. Slow. Laborious. Each movement is an effort. Like I'm moving through water.
I unlock my door. The click sounds too loud in the silence.
The hallway stretches before me. Dark. Empty. The carpet runner is a gray river in the dim light. The walls press inon both sides. It looks longer than it should. Like it's grown in the hours I've been lying in bed.
I take a step.
The floor tilts beneath my feet.
I grab the wall. Press my palm flat against the cool surface. Wait for the dizziness to pass.
It doesn't.
But I can't stay here. Can't lie in bed another second with my skull trying to split itself open.
