Wake

Chapter 6

Cian

I wondered how many ceilings looked like mine.

I imagined that most did: that bland yet bright alabaster, mostly uninterrupted with the exception of the fans' rotating blades and the occasional air vent. Maybe someone's ceiling was popcorn, or had a stain somewhere where a bug had been smashed. Regardless of what it looked like, it served the same purpose in each room: to be the ultimate shelter from the elements.

Ceilings were under appreciated, I thought.

I had no idea why I was thinking about ceilings.

My headache had dulled, yet not gone away, so I lay on my bed, my back pressed to the comforter. I squeezed my eyes shut, then opened them, then shut them again, trying to allay the pain somehow. It was useless. Whatever was inside of me, whatever was doing this to me, had me in its clutches, and it wasn't giving up anytime soon.

I heard the doorbell, and the muffled noises of the door opening and Vinny's voice that followed it. A part of me thought that I should probably head down there to see who our visitor was, but when I tried to, a jarring pain surged through my temples. I collapsed back down to the bed, rolling to my side.

A million images flashed in my head: Vinny, cowering on the dock; Lucie, her blood spilling underneath her; Caprice, yanking my sleeve down and exposing everything I'd been trying to ignore.

We were all falling apart. One way or another, we were crumbling.

It would all just be easier if she were here. Maybe it wouldn't be perfect, but at least I'd have something to hold on to, to keep me steady against the vicious tides.

I rubbed my eyes. Downstairs somewhere, people were conversing in soft, muddled voices. I knew at least one was my brother, but that was all I knew.

I'd gotten up, planning to head down to him, when each one of my limbs began to tremble. They were subtle, twitching tremors, but it confused me all the same: how one moment I could have control of my body, and the next, my nerves were practically useless.

Nausea roiled within me, my stomach flipping over itself, the ache in my skull reaching a frightening crescendo. There were nails, bolts, knives, dug into every inch of my skin; it was all I could do not to scream as I scrambled for the hall bathroom.

Come on, Cian. Get yourself together, get yourself together...

I paused at the vanity, still shaking, my hands barely grasping onto the porcelain sink. The veins in my arm, black, shadowy snakes beneath my skin, were writhing, pulsing further up my arm as if clamoring to escape. My stomach lurched. I wanted to throw up. Nothing came.

I needed to know what was wrong with me. I needed to know what was wrong with me-

My eyes were burning. I lifted my gaze to the mirror, staggering backwards at the sight. My eye, the one not hidden by the eyepatch, had shifted from sapphire to pure ink, the darkness swallowing up the whites.

"No," I breathed, groaning. I tore off the eyepatch. My blind eye looked just as dark. "No. Not again, not again."

It was at about that moment that I realized my consciousness was flickering, little intermittent bursts of oblivion interrupting my thoughts. My vision blurring, I clawed for something, anything, to keep myself anchored.

Before I knew it, I was tumbling into the void.

Clammy skin met cold tile; I fell away.