Well, Hell
Caffeine
"Yes mum, I'm eating enough. Yes, I'm sleeping. Yes, I'm going to class. Uh-huh. Yeah, uh, gotta go now. Jeff just walked in and he needs my help with a project, so I'll talk to you later, okay? Yeah, love you too mum. Bye-- Yeah, yeah, I'll be sure to come home for Thanksgiving, promise. Seriously mom, I gotta-- Love you too, mum. Bye. BYE."
Lyle hung up quickly before his mother could try to revive their thrice-over-dead conversation. He understood that his mum liked to check in on him, and it kinda left him with a slightly warm, fuzzy feeling inside to know that she cared about him, but now was not the time, hence the hasty retreat and half-assed lies: he could feel his energy flagging.
Here comes the crash.
His eyes threatened to close on him, his peripheral vision already fading as his body attempted another forcible shut-down, but Lyle stumbled into the bathroom. With awkward and unwieldy movements, he jerked aside the shower curtain, spun the dial to its coldest setting, and stood there, fully clothed, as ice water soaked him to his bones. The chill broke through the fog of sleep and left him shaking madly.
His skin protested the abuse and the brutally agonizing freeze, but still that lethargic haze persisted; panic took root, careening through his thoughts with a resounding, horrified, wordless shriek. He dropped to the ground, knees giving out underneath him, and cracked the base of his skull against the edge of the tub. For one sickening moment, his vision blurred into a single smear of grey but water rained on his face, dribbling down his unshaven chin and draining down the back of his throat to fill his lungs.
The liquid, so cold, so fucking cold, froze him from the inside out, sending sharp radiating pain through his veins. His eyelids fluttered back and forth, but before sleep could claim him, he shot to his feet, fell again as the floor swayed underneath his unsteady feet, and clung to the door frame, holding himself up through sheer force of will. Bile bit at the back of his throat and he coughed deeply in an attempt to dredge up the water remaining in his lungs; coughing turned over to vomiting, the remnants of acid-laden coffee, coffee-soaked-toast, and half-digested caffeine tablets exploding in a violent stream from his mouth to coat his feet, the floor in front of him, and the front of his shirt.
"Fucking nasty," he slurred, staring at the mess with a sort of detached disgust.
Blearily, he staggered into the living room, sat himself heavily in front of the rows of amber pill bottles lined up on the coffee table. Still shivering from his shower, he sluggishly popped three, no four, no five six seven ten caffeine tablets into his mouth and leaned back to wait.
His heart slowly adjusted to the excess in his system, gradually revving like an overworked motor, and soon that pitiful organ in his chest began to grind against its calcium cage, eager to be freed. His pulse shot into his throat, pounded behind his eyes, and even throbbed in his fingers and toes. Taken over body and soul by the energy, his eyes rolled up to stare at the speckled ceiling, to trace meaningless patterns in the white space.
Heart whirring, brain churning so quickly nothing could keep his attentions, only one thought permeated his caffeine drenched mind: Gotta stay awake. The words repeated, a crazed mantra, and carved themselves into his eyelids, lest he forget and sleep.
He drew in a shuddering breath. His entire body shook with an odd concoction of stress, exhaustion, and caffeine, sending his poor, human heart into a tizzy. Once more, his vision swam and yet he couldn't bring himself to concentrate and fix the smear obscuring his view, distorting the images he saw until all that remained was a colourless haze, a clouded glass.
His heartbeat stuttered, stumbling once, but continued faithfully, pounding at superhuman speeds.
Gotta stay awake. The mantra repeated itself. Gotta stay awake. The mantra repeated itself. Gotta stay awake. The mantra repeated itself endlessly.
His heart throbbed out of time again.
Gotta stay awake.
His heart returned to its frenetic pace.
Gotta--
His heart faltered again
--stay--
before returning
--awake.
to its— gottastayawakestayawakestayawakeawakestayawake
shit.
Lyle hung up quickly before his mother could try to revive their thrice-over-dead conversation. He understood that his mum liked to check in on him, and it kinda left him with a slightly warm, fuzzy feeling inside to know that she cared about him, but now was not the time, hence the hasty retreat and half-assed lies: he could feel his energy flagging.
Here comes the crash.
His eyes threatened to close on him, his peripheral vision already fading as his body attempted another forcible shut-down, but Lyle stumbled into the bathroom. With awkward and unwieldy movements, he jerked aside the shower curtain, spun the dial to its coldest setting, and stood there, fully clothed, as ice water soaked him to his bones. The chill broke through the fog of sleep and left him shaking madly.
His skin protested the abuse and the brutally agonizing freeze, but still that lethargic haze persisted; panic took root, careening through his thoughts with a resounding, horrified, wordless shriek. He dropped to the ground, knees giving out underneath him, and cracked the base of his skull against the edge of the tub. For one sickening moment, his vision blurred into a single smear of grey but water rained on his face, dribbling down his unshaven chin and draining down the back of his throat to fill his lungs.
The liquid, so cold, so fucking cold, froze him from the inside out, sending sharp radiating pain through his veins. His eyelids fluttered back and forth, but before sleep could claim him, he shot to his feet, fell again as the floor swayed underneath his unsteady feet, and clung to the door frame, holding himself up through sheer force of will. Bile bit at the back of his throat and he coughed deeply in an attempt to dredge up the water remaining in his lungs; coughing turned over to vomiting, the remnants of acid-laden coffee, coffee-soaked-toast, and half-digested caffeine tablets exploding in a violent stream from his mouth to coat his feet, the floor in front of him, and the front of his shirt.
"Fucking nasty," he slurred, staring at the mess with a sort of detached disgust.
Blearily, he staggered into the living room, sat himself heavily in front of the rows of amber pill bottles lined up on the coffee table. Still shivering from his shower, he sluggishly popped three, no four, no five six seven ten caffeine tablets into his mouth and leaned back to wait.
His heart slowly adjusted to the excess in his system, gradually revving like an overworked motor, and soon that pitiful organ in his chest began to grind against its calcium cage, eager to be freed. His pulse shot into his throat, pounded behind his eyes, and even throbbed in his fingers and toes. Taken over body and soul by the energy, his eyes rolled up to stare at the speckled ceiling, to trace meaningless patterns in the white space.
Heart whirring, brain churning so quickly nothing could keep his attentions, only one thought permeated his caffeine drenched mind: Gotta stay awake. The words repeated, a crazed mantra, and carved themselves into his eyelids, lest he forget and sleep.
He drew in a shuddering breath. His entire body shook with an odd concoction of stress, exhaustion, and caffeine, sending his poor, human heart into a tizzy. Once more, his vision swam and yet he couldn't bring himself to concentrate and fix the smear obscuring his view, distorting the images he saw until all that remained was a colourless haze, a clouded glass.
His heartbeat stuttered, stumbling once, but continued faithfully, pounding at superhuman speeds.
Gotta stay awake. The mantra repeated itself. Gotta stay awake. The mantra repeated itself. Gotta stay awake. The mantra repeated itself endlessly.
His heart throbbed out of time again.
Gotta stay awake.
His heart returned to its frenetic pace.
Gotta--
His heart faltered again
--stay--
before returning
--awake.
to its— gottastayawakestayawakestayawakeawakestayawake
shit.