J. (Discontinued)

Chapter 1

Present Day

I shoot up in my bed covered in sweat. Taking deep breaths I allow my eyes to wander around the room to settle my racing heart. The sheets are sticky and shift with my body when I move.

All I see are shadows. My curtains are drawn, you see, because I sleep in absolute darkness. My coat hanging behind the door makes faces at me, and I am glad that my closet door is closed.

I take a deep breath, and when I let it out it stirs the stale air that permeates my room. And that's where I am, my room. I am at home. Not, elsewhere.

I didn't mean to fall asleep, but there's only so much a girl can take of the Lord of the Flies. Looks my non-prescription amphetamines aren't working; knew I shouldn't have bought them off that guy on Corner Street. I just wanted to save a little money, but I should've bought them from the boy who works at the pharmacy; he sells prescription drugs at inflated prices on the side, but at least they work.

Fuck. What was it my therapist said I should do? Write it down? Ya, I think that's it. So I stick my hands under my bed and feel around for my notebook; the pen is attached, makes my lazy life easier.

Hmmm, where to start? I guess, at the beginning. But not too much, I don't want to bore you; not that my dreams are boring, far from it. Now, what's the date?

I open my notebook and squint at the pages, but I can hardly see a thing in this darkness. The light switch is so far though! I huff, psyche myself and throw my body off the bed. I am on my feet and at the switch in less than two seconds. I flick it. My room floods with brightness and I cover my eyes with my right hand. The light burns! Eventually, I peek through my fingers and the light seems to have dimmed.

I look at my room and see nothing very remarkable; it's average, ordinary, with white walls and a grey carpet. It's just how I like it. My double bed takes up most of the space; it has a checkered black and white blanket as well as four pillows, two black, two white. The pillows are on the floor at the moment, I tend to push them off with all the kickboxing I do in my sleep.  Pillows are overrated, anyway. I have my computer desk on the right side of my room, and a giant bookshelf that fills up my entire left wall. I should probably alphabetize my books later; they look like they're in disarray. Finally, I have my closet door on the same wall as the door to my room. It's a little odd, but, I'm used to it.

A hop, skip and a jump takes me to my bed and I grab my notebook and write down my  dream. It takes a while and I have to stop at random intervals to do my breathing exercises; don't want to have panic attack after all (at least not until I've written everything down).

As I get to the end of my dream I take a deep breath; previous experiences have taught me that if I don't steel myself I'll end up with a full blown flashback on my hands. Talk about PTSD.

I look up at my ceiling and begin the count the presence of the glowing stars pasted on it; it's better than counting sheep, trust me.

One star.

                    Two stars.

                                         Three stars.

                                                                Four.

Okay, I can do this.I turn onto my stomach and quickly write down the ending. It's over. I throw my notebook back under my bed and grab my sketchbook from behind the headboard.

I start drawing and don't stop until a picture has formed. Huh. A decapitated teddy bear. But, the real question is, if it doesn't have its head, who does? I start giggling, and then cut off abruptly when I hear the edge of hysteria to it.

I realize suddenly that I don't really care. Shrugging, I chuckle; it quickly devolves into a full blown manic laugh, shoulders quivering and all.

Laughter dying down I continue my drawing. I'm not going to be getting any more sleep tonight.