I own nothing.

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Time, heavy and slow, suffocating, suddenly blurs. I see snippets, pieces of moments I can't quite place, faces I can't quite put names to. There's something dripping down my back. There's something dripping down my face. My feet are pounding rhythmically, spastically. I wonder vaguely if I'm running. I wonder how I can be running if I can't see.

I can't see...I can't see. I can't see.

I'm pounding on our door as my eyes finally open. The red door is there, cold under my fist. A bleary-eyed Dallas opens up, scowl already set in place. But I'm not. My eyes are open, but I'm not quite back yet. Dallas rolls his eyes and pulls me inside. I stand awkwardly in the entrance, looking around. I see everything, but something just isn't working...I can't process anything...my eyes flicker around by themselves, focusing slowly before moving on. I want to close them, to have just a moment of peace, but I can't. Dallas pushes me lightly onto the bed.

"Jesus, kid. This again?" I look up at him, bewildered. He throws a t-shirt at me.

"Get that rag off before you freeze to death." He pounds off to the bathroom and I can hear him rummaging around. Things are clanking together, he's cursing, something crashes. I pull my wet shirt off slowly, painstakingly. There's red on the back, and I finger the slimy spot. Dallas walks back in with a handful of bottles and a white roll. He drops them lightly on the bed next to me and sits down on the floor.

"Go on. Clean yourself up." He watches me with skeptical eyes. I stare blankly back at him. I have no idea what he's talking about.

"Why's there red on this shirt, Dal?"

Dallas snorts and rolls onto his back, holding his arms up in the air. He stays like that for a moment before rolling back over.

"You're bleeding, dumbass. Now clean yourself up." He stands up and slams out of the apartment and I'm left staring at my shaking hands. I still don't know what to do.

So I lie down on the bed and drop off to sleep.

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I wake up at some point to rough fingers on my back. It's tight and it hurts. I moan and try to roll over, but a hand stops me. My back is warm and my breathing uneven as I press my face into the pillow. Someone's cursing as I start drifting back off to sleep and I wish I could just hang around for one more minute...

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