Free writing # ?

Bile built up in the back of his throat. He felt like crying and vomiting at once. In an attempt to breath deeply, he only caused himself a minor hysteria as he took in several short, deep breaths within seconds. He coughed, the kind of cough which immediately follows an intense vomit. He stumbled and thought to himself "This is silly. I need to calm down. What am I getting upset for?"

A million answers flew into his brain like a flock of insane birds, swooping and shrieking. The din they made was unbearable, but unmistakable. He knew exactly why he was upset. She was supposed to be his.

Bile again, and this time he did vomit. It spilled through his fingers onto the carpet and he choked on the acid taste as he tried to keep it in his mouth. This only made it spill out more. He moved to the sink, but the worst was over. Turning on the tap, he gulped water, spitting it out quickly. He reached under the sink for paper towels but as he couldn't find them his reach became a grope, and his hand closed on an unused lightbulb. The bulb shattered in his hand and blood ran down his fingers.

He cursed loudly, frightening his dog who shrank into a corner. "It's ok, honey. I'm sorry. I didn't mean to yell. You're alright. You're alright." The dog only shrank further into the corner, tucking its tail further between its legs. He pulled a shard of glass out of his hand and tried to remember whether he'd need a shot for this type of cut. Was there mercury in this type of bulb? Another shard, another pinch as the glass withdrew. He turned on the tap with his good hand and tried to remember if it was hot of cold water that he needed. He decided on cold, but it stung so he switched to hot which burned. The dog had snuck away to lick at the pool of vomit which was sinking into the carpet.

A song played on the radio. A booming voice announced that "nobody knows you, and nobody gives a damn" and he stood there sobbing. The blood from his hand, encouraged by the water began to flow again and drip onto the kitchen floor. He looked again for the paper towels, but saw that there were none. What time was it?

He rinsed his hand once again and wiped it with a dark towel then covered his cuts with childrens band-aids, the only kind in the cabinet. He wondered about ointment as he put on his coat. A lump in his throat became insistant so he walked quickly out the door and breathed slowly and deeply. The night was clear and cold and the sky was a deep navy. No stars.

A car whizzed past him and he felt a pain behind his eyes. Quickly glancing around him and seeing no one there, he threw his arms down at his sides, tossed his head back and bellowed at the sky. He doubled over and shouted again, a deep, primitave, wordless scream. There was snot running freely out of his nose and tears in the corners of his eyes as he straightened himself up and tried to look presentable in case anyone came around the corner.

His hands hurt from clenching and he had neglected to put any gloves on. Pain pain pain from every direction seemed to be flowing into his body, his fingers especially. His mind raced with images of her being kissed by him, carressed by him, entered by him. He coughed again and doubled over as if suffering severe abdominal pain. Through his teeth a desperate cry tried to loose itself, but seemed to be strangled by his tongue which would not give it shape. More bile, more pain.

He went to a bar, but they would not serve him, thinking him to be "unstable." He had shouted and broken a glass. The management had been called. He walked by a church and sat sobbing on its steps, until a policeman came by and told him that he couldn't sit there. So he returned home.

He stripped naked and got into the shower. The hot water flowed over him, turning his skin a vibrant red. He got into bed and called to his dog who, apparently, had forgotten her recent terror. She snuggled up next to him and he put his arm around her and squeezed tightly. "I love you so much," he said to her. She twisted and licked his face, then lay still. Exhausted, he fell asleep.

In the morning the sun streamed through the window. He woke and the dog was gone. She had gotten over heated during the night. He sat up and his mind was a blank. He wondered what the day of the week was, and why his hand was hurting. He looked across the room to a plant on the window sill and he remembered. His arm collapsed under his weight and he fell onto the pillow, fingers clutching the blanket, eyes wide, knees pulled into his chest. He was like a baby with no mother to comfort him. No, she had gone to another.

He lay this way for a long time without blinking. Then he squeezed his eyes tightly, released his fingers, took a deep breath, and swung his legs over the side of the bed. He rested his elbows on his knees and his face in his hands. He rubbed his eyes until they hurt and he saw gold designs inside his eyelids. Then he stood up and made himself a pot of tea.