I am reposting this fic because I could never tell if anybody read it in the right order. I figured it would be simpler to just fix some errors, delete the previous version, and publish this one. See, I wrote the second chapter first, and only later wrote this chapter. I published them in the order I wrote them, so I think it confused my readers. I was rather fond of it. If you're wondering about the odd printing, I did it this way because I thought it expressed how he felt better. I own nothing!

Chapter 1: Burning

The poundingPOUNDINGpounding in Danny's head was noisy. Blurs of sound, shoutingscreaming for his attention. He whimpered, curling up in a tight ball, the reality of the wall beside him helping not at all. The pain was more than pain; pain was stubbing your toe. This was screamingfitofrageredhotanvil pain. He could barely think, he just wanted the PAIN to goaway. His simple request. The only one he had. He rocked back and forth.

/He'shavinganotherfit/calm/hospital/everything'swrong/why?/theboycan'tdoathing/supper/he'llfeelbettersoon/

Danny barely knew himself anymore. The painPOUNDINGpoundingPAIN wouldn't stop unless he got the medicine again. That foul-lothesome supposedtohelpyou medicine. He uncurled from his ball, just in time for another wave of PAIN. He collapsed again. He had tried to get the voices outOUTout, but it never worked. It was a relief when he lost consciousness sometimes from the force he hit his head against the wall with.

He slammed his head against the wooden posts on his bed, and threw himself at the wall, screeching. A dull, thudding pain flew through his skull, accompanied by another spark.

/roomwithwindowsKITCHENbrownies/nothospitalhe'llgetoverit/justaphase/hewon'tneedtogo/thedoctorinwashington/upstairsbeforehehurtshimse-/beupsoonasiputthisdown/

He screamed inside his head, and the voices paused, just for a second. The closest ones stopped completely, but the farther ones-

/Frankiesagoose/ihope-date/kiss/whaaaa/babysinterruptingagain/

He struggled up. Onestep-onestep-keepgoing. He was nearly at the door. He fumbled with the doorknob, opened the door, and kept going. Onestep-onestep-keepgoing. He made it down the stairs, fighting the poundingPOUNDINGpounding in his head. He didn't quite know how he got down the stairs; only that he did it.

He was at the medicine cabinet, looming, blue doors wavering in his field of vision five feet above himself. He used a tall chair, moving slowly, balancing on the tips of his toes, swaying, back-and-forth. Getting on it was hard. He opened the cabinet, and the huge drawers, and found it.

It was orange, and syrupy. He had to get onto the counter to grab it. He tried to read the label, but the words were just a blur, and the voices were getting worse.

If he took more, wouldn't the painPAINpain leave faster? He unscrewed the lid. Nearly fell over again, the only thing keeping him upright being the grip on the cabinet-handle, and the knowledge that the hurt would go away, the same way it usually did. He bit the top, afraid that he'd drop the bottle and lose it, and slowly, slowly tilted it back, before gulping it down in seconds. Everything was gone. He felt a little sick. He stumbled off the chair, and threw the bottle in the trashcan.

He began the long trek back upupup the stairs, each step slow and wearisome. He made it to the top, and ran to the bathroom seconds later puking up some of the nasty medicine. He shuddered, and the voices kept playing. He laboriously pulled himself up into bed, and set his head on the pillows, voices still there.

/Hewasinakitchen,andthelivingroom,andthecleanerwassoloud/adiningroom/foodfillednostrilswithsweetaromas/

The images were immersive, but they began to subside. Sliding away, the room was quiet, and he was so tired, and the room was getting darkerdarkerdarker...

Danny felt a queer cold sensation, and he only wished it could stay this way foreverandever.

The room was gone, and Danny lost consciousness, blackness and blessed silence overtaking him.

How do you like this part? Review, please! Thanks! Also, if you couldn't tell, Danny is a telepath in this story. It was a different idea that I'd never seen before, so I just wrote it out. This story has no sequels at all. I'll post the next chapter, since it's already complete, on Sunday, just after I finish my homework. And, yes, I am well aware that accidental/intentional overdosage figures frequently in my fictions. What can I say? It makes a great plot device!

-MiaulinK