Page 144 of Somno Slave

But it feels distant, like from memory light years away.

My apartment feels hollow. My bedroom abandoned. I used to love the slow ticking of my clock but now it feels more like bullets in my skull.

I press my fingers to my temples like I can smooth the pain out.

“Great,” I mumble. My voice sounds rough, like I swallowed gravel in the night.

I swing my legs over the side of the bed and stay here for a moment, letting the room steady itself. My mind spins. Nausea rolls through my stomach. I swallow it down before I can ruin my cream carpet.

Lack of sleep.

That’s all this is.

People go one night without sleep all the time.

It’s not a big deal.

Pull yourself together, Rheda.

I stand. Wobble. My hands shoot out like a windmill to steady myself, knees buckling slightly as though I’m using them for the first time. But I’ve got the momentum going and I keep moving, pushing my way into the bathroom.

The tiles are colder than usual. They bite into the soles of my feet as I shuffle toward the shower.

I turn the water on and hover, counting down the seconds before the pipes bless me with steam rather than ice. I shower slowly. Hot water beads cascade down my shoulders and neck, loosening the tight knot that formed there sometime around three in the morning when I finally gave up pretending he might still come.

I tilt my head forward. The water runs through my hair, down my cheeks, pooling off the tip of my chin. The hot water feels nice. Not good. But not bad. Just...nice.

I lather shampoo into my hair, fingers aching as I try to rub the stress from my scalp. When it comes to my conditioner, Idon’t bother waiting for it to sink in. Just a quick pull through with my fingers and then a rinse. The water sloshes. I flinch, the noise a beat too loud for my pounding mind.

I exhale slowly and turn the shower off, drying myself quickly. I pull on the first set of clothes I can find. A dark blouse. Jeans. Nothing special.

I try to wring the water from my hair, but it darkens my blouse. I glance at my hairdryer. It would only take ten minutes to run some heat through it and stop the discomfort, but the mere thought of the whirling volume screaming into my ears, is enough to make me refuse. I turn on my feet and exit the bathroom.

I grab my bag and leave before I can talk myself into staying home.

The facility is already awake when I arrive.

I move through the corridor automatically, nodding at a guard who greets me as I pass. My head feels slightly too light, like my thoughts are floating just a few inches above where they’re supposed to be.

I inhale.

Exhale.

Ground yourself, Rheda, I tell myself.

The viewing room door is half open when I get there. Peter’s voice drifts out. “...no engagement. Let him sit with the silence.”

Mike murmurs something in response.

I push the door open.

He glances up from the console. “Good morning!”

“Morning.” I respond automatically.

I glance at them and force a smile I don’t feel. Peter gives me a quick nod, already turning back to the stack of reports on the desk in front of him. The room smells of printer toner and burnt coffee.

I drag my bag beside my chair and sit.