Warning: Self harm is mentioned in this chapter.
Duff couldn't breathe and was seriously considering jumping from a five story building in hopes that maybe, just maybe, he wouldn't wake up. His whole body shook. The thoughts in his head were jumbled and refused to stay still long enough to become coherent. He was outside of himself. Watching. No matter how hard he tried, his mind would not cooperate. Duff saw himself. Scratching at his skin. Pulling his hair. Biting his hands and arms. Doing anything to draw blood.
It wasn't Duff. He wasn't hurting himself. His mind had floated away a long time a go. Duff's body was acting on its own. Trying to bring him back. Wake him up from that never ending nightmare.
Duff couldn't stand. His legs were weak. The world had disappeared from beneath him. So he lay on the floor. His carpet was dirty and uncomfortable but he didn't notice. He was too caught up in trying to convince himself that life was worth living.
It was raining outside. Duff normally found it calming. Now it just reminded him he was trapped. He was in a room. A small room. The walls were too close. Duff couldn't get out. He felt like an animal in a cage.
His hands were shaking. They wouldn't stop. Even when he sunk his teeth into his flesh and clawed at his crawling skin.
Duff clenched his jaw to keep from crying out. There was no pain as he dug his nails into his arm. He raked them along his skin, drawing blood. That was good. It meant he was still alive.
Duff felt very alone and very afraid. The feeling of impending doom was crushing him. Reducing him to nothing but dust. Escape seemed like a good option. A bridge or a rope or a gun. Anything. Life wasn't fun anymore. He wanted out.
Duff let out a low, guttural whine and bit down on his palm. A shock of adrenaline coursed through his veins. Duff did it again, this time harder. And again. And again.
Then he stopped and clawed his arms some more. It hurt this time. But it was real. It was good. He couldn't get enough.
Duff knew he looked crazy. He probably was. But Duff couldn't stop it. He had no control over himself.
Duff wrapped his hand around his wrist. The deep rivets he'd dug burned beneath his touch. That only made his grip tighten.
Blood was smeared up his arm. It would be a bitch to hide later on. He didn't care. All he wanted was for this to stop.
Duff hugged his knees to his chest and curled up into a ball. He rocked himself back and forward, whispering words of reassurance.
"Wake up, wake up, wake up." He muttered repetitively. Duff tried to follow his own advice. But he couldn't. Because it wasn't a dream. This was his reality.
.
Aubrey's head hurt, her throat was swollen, and her lips were chapped. She groaned and rubbed her eyes with the heels of her palms. Light poured into the room, blinding her momentarily. Aubrey squinted and shielded her face from the sun. She reached out and felt around for Marcy. There was nobody else on the couch. Marcy must have gotten up already. They'd fallen asleep together the night before.
Aubrey pushed herself up. She took a moment to come to her senses before stumbling out of the living room. The hallway was dead quiet. Everyone must have still been sleeping. It was eerie. The house was usually so loud. There was always some music playing or somebody talking. It was never silent. Ever.
And of course, it was too good to be true. As Aubrey staggered past Duff's room, she heard a loud moan. She nearly tripped over a pile of books on the floor and had to lean on the wall to regain her balance. Duff groaned again and there was a loud thumping noise. Aubrey grimaced. Did he have to be so loud?
