It was the sharp smell of blood that eventually roused Henry from his sleep, his hands over his eyes in an attempt to calm the pounding behind them. Straightening up in bed, he noted the sweat dripping from his body and the dampness of the shirt plastered to his chest. Aside from the smell, he was struck by how quiet the room was. As he stumbled over to the light switch, an odd heaviness wearing him down, he realized upon flicking it that the bulb was broken.

“Damn,” he muttered, still trying to gain his bearings and figure out why his entire body seemed to be screaming in discomfort. As his eyes adjusted to the near-darkness, he finally took in the state of his room.

“Jesus.”

It was a mess. Aside from the blood residue spattered across the walls, the mirror was cracked, its shards scattered across the floor, catching the muted light that peeked out from behind the drawn curtains. The wooden table that held his few possessions had been overturned. Pages from his journal had been judiciously ripped out and now lay near the bed, beside a cracked photo frame containing a picture of his family.

A slow anger began to build as he stared at the destruction. He thought of all the time his sister Catherine had taken to help set up his room. Despite the infrequency of her visits, she had put real effort into making the space feel less sterile. Running his hands over his head, he noticed the state of his fists, and his breath caught. His knuckles were angry and swollen, tapering into fingernails that were splintered and torn.

He walked over to the curtains, frantically trying to piece together the events of the previous night, but came up blank. Suddenly, he flung them open and took in the extent of the damage. As he surveyed the room, he began to pace, his head in his hands, his mind spinning on a continuous loop of a single word: Edward.

No sooner than he had sat back down on his bed, there was a brisk knock at the door. His head snapped up, and before he could form a sentence, a nurse entered the room. He recognized her—one of the new nurses who had arrived earlier in the month. Henry remembered taking a liking to her; her small, oval face reminded him of his youngest sister, Sola.

“Good morning Mr. Lawal, I hope you had a good—”She froze in the doorway, staring wide-eyed at the damage inflicted upon the room.

Henry let out a derisive laugh. How could he have let this happen again?

“I-I think I should go call a doctor,” she stammered, quickly exiting the room and letting the door swing shut behind her.

“I—I think I should go call a doctor,” she stammered, quickly exiting and letting the door swing shut behind her.

Henry lay back on the bed and stared at the ceiling, listening to the steady ticking of the clock on the wall beside him. About ten minutes later, the nurse returned.

“Doctor Benjamin will see you now. Please follow me,” she instructed.

Wordlessly, he rose and followed her into the hall.

Regardless of the circumstances, he was glad to be able to walk around at night. Usually, anything beyond a glass of water or a trip to the bathroom required a night pass. Many of the others roamed the halls after dark—especially the insomniacs—so nurses were assigned to supervise them.

As he thought this, he caught sight of a small, light-haired figure approaching and realized it was his friend Anna.

“Henry! You’ve come to visit me!” she exclaimed, a brilliant smile lighting up her face.

Her excitement was contagious, and Henry couldn’t help but return the smile. Though Anna was only thirteen, she had been here as long as he could remember. A petite albino girl rescued from an abusive mother, she had been diagnosed with various disorders and had a tendency to stay awake for days at a time. She once confided in him that she was afraid to sleep because the demons in her nightmares looked like people—which made being awake all the more exhausting.

“Hello, sweetheart,” he replied, gently placing a hand on her head. “Unfortunately, I can’t stay long. I have a meeting with a doctor, but I’ll come back to visit.”

She shrugged. “It’s okay. Mary and I are going to play cards. She said she’d teach me a game called Snap!” she said, gesturing toward her nurse, who was surreptitiously glancing at Henry, clearly not used to seeing him in the halls at night.

“All right, darling. I’ll see you later.”

With that, Anna took off down the hall, forcing her nurse into a near run to keep up.

Henry continued on, occasionally slowing to glance into open doorways. Seeing the others reminded him why he hadn’t pushed too hard for a night pass. In one room, a middle-aged woman sat crying at the foot of her bed. In the next, a man mumbled frantically to himself. Henry turned away and continued down the hall, his nurse a few steps behind.

Moments later, he found himself seated across from Doctor Benjamin. Silence stretched between them until it was broken by a long sigh.

“It happened again,” Henry said, his eyes fixed on the pale yellow wall behind the doctor. He liked the color. It was soothing, reminiscent of the bedroom he’d had as a child.

“I know.” Doctor Benjamin responded, his eyes laser-focused.

“I know,” Doctor Benjamin replied, his gaze unwavering.

“I was angry, and I think there was a fight, but I—I can’t—” Henry’s voice rose as he ran his hands over his head and stared at the ceiling.

After a heavy pause, the doctor finally spoke.

“I would like to speak to him,” he said slowly, watching Henry’s reaction.

Who, Edward?” Henry asked, already knowing the answer. “You know that’s not possible. We’re not exactly on speaking terms.” He closed his eyes and let his head fall back against the couch. He was exhausted.

“I understand that,” Doctor Benjamin said, “but I have something I’d like to try. It’s a bit risky, which is why I’d use a sedative. It’s completely painless. If I can understand where he’s coming from, I’ll know how to help you.”

After a moment, Henry nodded. “I don’t have a problem with it, I guess. But I have to warn you—he’s violent. You need to be careful.”

“That’s what the sedative is for,” Doctor Benjamin replied, a cautious smile tugging at his mouth.

Thirty minutes later, Henry lay still on the plush leather couch as the doctor injected his arm. A few moments passed, and lightheadedness crept in.

“It should be safe to start now,” the doctor said. “I hate having to resort to this method, but quite honestly, Henry, we’re nearing the end of the rope. Even for professionals like us, it gets to a point where you start to lose hope.”

Henry tried to sit up—tried being the operative word. The sedative slowed everything, his body refusing to cooperate.

“We seemed to be making progress, but here we are again, back at square one,” Doctor Benjamin continued. “Aren’t you tired of all this? Don’t you want to get better?”

Henry twitched, or at least attempted to. His tongue felt like lead, the response he wanted to give choking him from the inside. His thoughts slipped through his grasp as his heart pounded. Of course he was fucking tired. No one was more tired than him of this endless cycle of waking nightmares chipping away his sanity.

Doctor Benjamin sighed.

“I mean, isn’t that why your sister stopped visiting?” he pressed. “I can only imagine how heartbreaking it must be for her to see her big brother like this.”

Rage flared white-hot. The doctor’s words, paired with Henry’s inability to move, compounded until his vision bled red. Normally, he had better control over his temper—but sedated, the restraint was gone. Thoughts collided violently in his head.

Who the hell does he think he is?
Relax.
What the fuck does he know about anything?
Calm down—stay calm—
I could snap his fucking neck—

As he fought to beat back the tide of emotions, a voice cut through:

“Are you sure you even wanted to get better?”

Something snapped.

His rage answered the call, dragging him down, deeper and deeper, until there was nothing left but darkness.

It was like a taut string snapping clean in half.  His rage called out to him, and he dove into it, swimming further down, and down until there was nothing but darkness.

Doctor Benjamin watched his patient closely, unease settling in his chest. Had he pushed too far? Would this do more harm than good?

Minutes passed—five, ten, then twenty.

Had something gone wrong?

Suddenly, Henry’s eyes flew open. He bolted upright, scanning the room. The piss-yellow walls. The faint scent of mint. Then, finally, the aging man seated across from him, staring intently.

“Who the fuck are you?” he snarled.

Doctor Benjamin smiled.

“Hello, Edward.”