Timothy’s Story

He awoke once again, this time head pounding and his chest following the same rhythm. The walls around him pulsated, eyes attempting to focus on his surroundings. Confused by the phantom warmth of the winter night, he reached over to welcome the chilling breath of outside in the hope it would bring him back to his senses. As the air crept in, dancing its fingers across his skin, he lay there barraged by thought.

His body was trapped in a state of fear as the room filled with his breath, cloudy as it collided with the cold. He’d been acquainted with this sensation so many times these past few months. Sleep was possible but almost always interrupted. The hairs on his flesh continued to rise and fall as his body failed to comprehend the feeling. The dull ache of his clenched jaw persisted as the embrace of the covers returned over his still sweaty body. He lay there facing the wall making eye contact with the gentle reflection in the glass, disturbed by the occasional smudge of breath.

“Not now,” he whispered.




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