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It’s a side-effect, and there are no ants. I know that.
Yet, at the minute
s tick past, it’s hard to know anything.
Everything becomes subjective. Everything is a gray area. Even the sounds of my daughter fade away and I can’t focus on her anymore. I’ve got enough drugs pumping through my veins that I can’t even see her face or my wife’s, even when I try to imagine them in my head.
Leroy is good at this. He’s planned out exactly how much drugs he can force me to take without me dying. He’s dragging it out, loading me up, then bringing me back down with heroin.
He wants to make me suffer.
Out of the corner of my eye, I see things. I see movements, and shadows, all moving along the walls and while I know they aren’t really there, I can’t help but check. I’m losing it.
I know I’m losing it.
Before I’m completely gone, I try to break the door down one last time. I’m a strong guy. I know that. I don’t make a dent in the door. I think it’s been reinforced from the outside somehow.
I try to break the windows.
They don’t budge. They’ve been replaced with shatter-proof glass. He’s thought of everything.
Son of a bitch.
I slump to the floor. I’m not giving up.
I look at the video monitor.
Zuzu is playing by herself, combing the hair on one of her dolls. Her door is closed, and I’m sure it’s locked, and I wonder what they’ve told her about her parents? Did they tell her we’d be there soon?
I shout through the door.
“Zuzu! Sweetheart! I’ll be there soon. Don’t be afraid.”
She doesn’t even look up. She can’t hear me.
I examine the door again, and now that I’m really looking at it, I see it’s not the same door I had installed. I think this one might be soundproof.
It must be. As a test, I bang on it as hard as I can.
Zuzu doesn’t look up. She can’t hear me.
No one can hear me.
My scalp buzzes, and I tug at my hair, and then I force my hand to still. It’s the PCP. It’s the PCP making me crazy. I’ve got to stop.
I force myself to sit on the floor again, and I pick a spot on the wall, and I stare at it, forcing my breath to be even. In, then out. In, then out. One, two. One, two. I focus on the pattern. I focus on my heart beat. I focus on making my breath fill my lungs up like a balloon, then forcing it all out, like the balloon is deflating.
If I do this, if I keep my mind active, and focused, I won’t lose it. It will be tethered to me.
It will still be mine.
Leroy can’t take that.
Not if I don’t allow it.
I glance out the windows for a moment, and the waves are crashing outside, and I realize something.
I can’t hear them.
