Sleep eluded him, the once-familiar lines and angles in his bedroom morphing into strange and somewhat threatening shapes. Long-forgotten monsters from his childhood lurked in every corner and he sat up, rubbing his face with a trembling hand, reluctant to turn on the light. A few paces to the bathroom, taking care not to stub toes on the corner of his desk, a quick slash to empty a bladder that wasn't really complaining. But it was better than lying there, waiting for sleep that never came. It was nearly four in the morning.
He sat on the edge of the bed and listened. The house was silent. Nothing unusual in that, the rooms were soundproofed, and anyway, his brothers' rooms were further away, and they were careful not to make any noise in case they woke him. His arm itched beneath the bandages. He wanted to scratch it, wanted to tear off the coverings and dig his nails deep into the skin. Wanted it to hurt. Anything to take away the memory. He couldn't settle, couldn't sleep, couldn't read. Couldn't even work. He was useless.
In the end he went back into the bathroom, blinking in the light as he opened the packet, popping two of the pills out of the foil bubbles. His fingers curled round the bright pink ovals that beguiled him with their promise of sleep.
Such weakness. He was almost tempted to throw them away, but in the end, need triumphed and he lipped them into his mouth before scooping up a double handful of water and swallowing with a grimace. Light turned out, he made his way back to bed, hoping for some small respite, some sleep before they came to check on him again. The sheets were cold again, even after such a brief sojourn, and he pushed his feet far down, relishing the chill. Then the door opened and he lay still, eyes closed, his breathing even and slow and relaxed though his whole body shrieked to be moving.
He knew who it was standing there, watching. His father's hand would be moving as if he wanted nothing more than to reach out and comfort the man lying there, but in the end the visitor retreated, closing the door behind him.
Virgil listened as the footsteps faded.
...
Author's note:
This is a work in progress and will be updated as my health allows. I am posting it here in the hope that it will spur me on to complete the story.