The ache in his legs was just beginning and he sighed. The day hadn't even started yet, but he knew. It was the same feeling he had every morning, was today a good day or a bad day the eternal question. But today it was less of a question more of a statement.
A bad day.
Head filled with damp wool, brain so tired fatigued beyond function as he tried in vain to keep his eyes open to the dull thud of life. Eyelids fought with the light fluttering up and down as he strained to glare out at the ceiling, knowing that the voice would start up bleating insistently , House House House it never stopped and it drove him deeper and deeper trying to get him back into the free world where he could be alone and be at peace.
It was never to be.
And then he would be walking out and around them, the people and they would drive him to rages. It wasn't a red blanket it was a thumping heart, a cold blush and breathless gasp and inability to keep his eyes open as he fought the rage growing inside of him. It was the world tilting on its side, his mind escaping his body, the rush of a thousand imagined victories. One day he would release it.
One day he would be at peace.