Eyes Open

Troy hurried down the dark street, feeling more and more uncertain. He was about to turn into an emotional wreck. Every time he ran under a streetlight he felt relieved because he could see around him, but scared because that meant people could see him. When he ran out from under them, he considered the same thought but in opposite – people couldn’t see him, but then he wouldn’t be able to see them.

He was doing his best to convince himself of the fact that it wasn’t real, and that it was all in his head so technically he was controlling it the whole time. But he couldn’t stop himself from being taken over by the incredible unease around him. His chest felt tight and his breath was short and shallow, and this was nothing to do with the fact he was now sprinting down the street. The truth was, he was absolutely terrified. His stomach was clenching and in the back of his mind, he knew that this meant that something was seriously wrong. He could try and convince himself that this was simply because of his hallucinations all he wanted, but the fact remained that he knew, deep down, in the back of his mind, that there was something more sinister about this entire situation.

Troy hurried through the cold streets, feeling the icy air nipping at his exposed arms and face. He wished he had at least thrown a hoodie or something warmer on as he had hurried out of the house, but he hadn’t been thinking straight. The cold gave him something to focus on aside from the fact that he felt as though he were being hunted, and so in a strange way he was glad for it. He hurried down the street, turning sharply every so often, not taking his usual route. He was hoping that if he surprised even himself with a change of direction every so often, his stalker wouldn’t be able to catch up with him so easily.

His idea was soon shaken out of his head, however, as he hurried down a narrow alleyway, only to turn into a deserted town centre street to see the tall man standing directly under a streetlamp, facing, of course, towards him. Troy froze, before backing down the alley again, turning, and sprinting back up it. He emerged on the other side of the street, and glanced over his shoulder as he continued to run. The tall man was still a distance away, but Troy was convinced he had moves a few streetlights up, at least.

Instead of focusing on this very unnerving thought, Troy put all of his effort into sprinting the remainder of the distance to the health clinic. It looked so different at night – usually it was bustling and brightly lit but at night it was practically deserted, with only a few cars in the parking lot and only the necessary lights on. Troy had always thought that seeing a place that should be bustling with people empty was a little creepy. He got the same feeling looking at the health centre in front of him as he did when he looked at photos on the internet of abandoned amusement parks or deserted hospitals and shopping malls.

The change in temperature that entering the foyer of the quiet building caused made Troy’s cheeks tingle uncomfortably, but he wasn’t focused on this. Instead, he was pushing the door closed behind him and pressing his forehead up against the cold glass, his eyes wildly scanning outside for any sign of the tall, suited man. Even though Troy couldn’t see him, he could still feel his presence, as though the thing’s eyes were constantly on him. Reminding himself that the creature had no visible eyes didn’t calm Troy’s nerves, and it was with much effort that he tore himself away from the window and entered the building.

The reception area was even warmer, but its bright lights and the fact that other people were around calmed Troy ever so slightly, making him feel more normal. He went to the reception desk, finding himself hoping that the receptionist wouldn’t be one of the two he had offended over the last few days. Luck wasn’t on his side, however, as the receptionist frowned when she saw him, clearly recognising him or having a least some idea of who he was. Troy’s paranoia was justified when her frown deepened as he spoke – she clearly recognised him from the telephone call.

"I’m here to-"

"I know," she told him shortly. "Take a seat."

"Thanks," Troy muttered, turning away.

"Hope you don’t stab anyone on the way," he heard her say under her breath, just loud enough for her to be sure he heard.

"Hope you don’t eat any more bitch flakes for breakfast," Troy muttered back, equally as obviously.

He had barely gotten comfortable in the chair before he was called through. He wasn’t surprised – he was the only patient there – but he was still annoyed that he couldn’t take the opportunity to catch his breath. He dragged himself up, feeling suddenly uncomfortably hot from the run, and forced his shaking legs to move him out of the room. He didn’t look out of the window – he knew to see the tall man, he would have to be right against the glass, and Troy didn’t think he nerves could handle something like that after everything else that had happened over the last few days.

"So, Troy," Dr. Friscoe said, as Troy entered the room, still panting slightly, and collapsed into a seat in there, instead. The doctor was clearly in clothes he had grabbed from the nearest place possible as he had run out of the house, and suddenly Troy felt bad and slightly stupid.

"So," Troy muttered lamely in reply, not meeting the doctor’s eye. There was a slightly uncomfortable silence before Troy forced himself to speak into it. "I’m sorry for bothering you, I really am. But I didn’t know what else to do."

"That’s quite all right," Dr. Friscoe replied brightly, as he took his usual seat opposite Troy. "I take it the situation hasn’t improved, then?"

"No," Troy said, taking a shaky breath. "It’s gotten worse. Over the last three days, I haven’t slept at all. And the hallucinations ... they’ve got so bad. It’s the same one now, over and over."

"And what one is that?"

"The tall guy in the suit I told you about," Troy replied, feeling even more uneasy at the mere mentioning of it. It made the creature seem so much more real when he spoke about it out loud. "He’s there so much now."

"How many times a day do you see him?"

"Well, the first day after I saw you, I lost count. Now, he’s here more times than he’s not. He followed me here, and he’s been peering in through all the windows at home."

"Troy," Dr. Friscoe said, in the tone of voice that Troy knew doctors used when they were about to ask a question they knew could be potentially disliked. "This tall man ... the way you refer to him almost makes me believe you could see him as a real entity. Do you?"

Troy paused before he answered.

"He seems realistic," Troy eventually said quietly, fiddling with a loose thread at the bottom of his T-shirt. "But I know he’s a hallucination. He has to be, right? But sometimes ... sometimes I wonder if he really is or not. That’s why I came down. I want to have something done, so I can sleep. Then, when I start sleeping properly again, I’ll know. If he disappears, I’ll know it was hallucinations caused by sleep deprivation. I’ve had them before, even if most of the time they were auditory. But if he doesn’t ... well, then I’ll something more serious is wrong, won’t I?"

"What sort of things does he do when you see him?"

"He just stands there and watches me," Troy shuddered. "I’ve never seen him move. I’ve seen him just disappear, but he doesn’t seem to walk or anything like that. He can just appear wherever and whenever he likes. Like on the way, he moved under different street lamps. And earlier, he was at different windows really quickly. He was also at eye-level with me even though I was on the second floor, at one point."

"This sounds very typical of dream-like hallucinations," Dr. Friscoe nodded. "Sometimes, hallucinations can take on what is almost a sequence – they may be nonsensical in content, but in the idea of time, they make sense. However, dreams don’t do that. They can be random and jump from scene to scene, or have no set timeline at all. I’m pretty convinced you’re going into micro sleep more and more, and this person is part of a split-second dream you’ve had."

"That doesn’t change the fact that it’s terrifying me," Troy burst out. He took a deep breath. "Look, do you not think it’s serious enough yet? Because I'm desperate here. There’s not much longer I can go on without sleep. I can’t do anything, and I need to get back to work. If I don’t I won’t be able to afford my rent. It’s ruining everything."

There was another long pause, and Troy hoped and prayed that this time he would get the medication he so desired. It was ridiculous for Dr. Friscoe to try and claim that natural remedies would work now – Troy knew that the time for messing around with other less successful methods was over. Now it was time, in Troy’s eyes, for cold, hard drugs.

"All right," Dr. Friscoe eventually said, and Troy’s heart soared with hope for the first time since this severe bout of insomnia had started. "We’ll try you on some medication. I think it’s for the best, considering you haven’t slept and these hallucinations are only getting worse."

The doctor turned to his computer, turning it on so he could put a prescription through, and then turned back to Troy.

"Seems you’ve been sleep deprived for so long, I’ll start you off on some stronger ones, just so you can catch up on whatever sleep you’ve missed. While you’re on these, I strongly recommend that you don’t drink any alcohol. Also, for the first twenty four or forty eight hours, depending on how they affect you, I strongly advise you against driving."

"That’s fine. I’m off work sick at the moment anyway," Troy shrugged. He knew he would practically agree to anything, so desperate he was to finally get some sleep.

"As I said, these are the strong ones, so take one about fifteen minutes before you want to go to bed, and make sure you get yourself there fast, or God knows where you’ll end up sleeping."

"I don’t care," Troy muttered. "As long as that’s what I’m doing – sleeping."

"Well, just make sure you’re not walking up stairs or in the bath or anything like that," Dr. Friscoe pointed out. "The last thing you need is to pass out cold in a situation like that."

"Yeah, I guess I see your point."

"Also, come back in a couple of days so we can check on your progress. You know, how you’re sleeping, and any side effects that might pop up."

"What sort of side effects are there?" Troy asked hesitantly. The last thing he wanted to hear was that something like visual or auditory hallucinations were side effects of the very medication he was relying on to stop them.

"Nothing too serious," Dr. Friscoe explained calmly. "You know how it is with medication – everything every single person who’s taken it had complained about has to be recorded and mentioned, or they’ll try and sue if it happens to anyone else. It could be completely unrelated to the medication, but it’s got to be written down. Heck, I even saw some medication with broken bones listed as a side effect, and I sure as anyone know that medication can’t snap bones. Falling over drunk can, though."

Troy was so relieved to finally be receiving medication that he found himself chuckling at his doctor’s comments.

"So, the normal stuff, then?" he asked. "Headaches and things?"

"Yeah, things like that. In severe cases there’s been fever and flu-like symptoms, but that’s rare. You haven’t had any negative reactions to medication before, have you?"

"Nope, not in anything I’ve been on before," Troy answered truthfully.

"Well, then I can bet that it’ll be plain sailing for you regarding this," Dr. Friscoe said. "Though if things do continue, you are right in saying something else could be wrong, and you’d have to come back down for further tests."

He typed a few things on his computer, clicked on a few things, and then turned to Troy and nodded.

"That’s your prescription put through to the pharmacy," he said. “Go on and get them and let’s hope you get some sleep. You sure as heck need it."