"Don't take before bed. Whatever. What's the worst thing that can happen," I swallow two of the pills and sit the bottle of water on my nightstand.
I never know what to think about before bed. Do people talk to themselves? I can never stop thinking about all my problems. The leaking bathroom sink is on the top of my mind. That thing has been a pain in my behind for the long...
I can't breathe, a hand wraps around my throat. I can't pry the fingers loose. Just a set of eyes stare back into my soul. No emotion as I struggle for my life. I can feel the tears falling down my face. I gasp for one final breath and I'm back in my room. I take a deep breath and cough up some spit. What the fuck was that?
Was that the warning? Don't take before bed or you'll choke on your own spit? I can still feel it in my throat. A sip of water helps clear my throat. Alright, maybe I should stay awake this time? Just don't go back to...
A man wearing a dingy jumpsuit stares back at me from across the street. His mouth dripping with fresh blood, teeth shining a pale yellow in the moonlight. Behind him sits a couple holding hands. Even in death with their stomachs ripped open. He rushes towards me. I prepare to stand my ground, I can't outrun him, he'd just get me from behind. He gets near and I prepare to throw a punch. He leaps into the air. His clawed hands tear into my shoulders and cover the streets with my blood.
"FUCK," I bolt up in bed. I must have woke myself up screaming. I grab the pill bottle and search the label again. "Ignoring any of these warnings could result in insomnia, diarrhea, night terrors, death or worse."
What the fuck is worse than death? It's only 3am. I don't know if I can stay up until it's time for work. Maybe if I just read a book or watch some TV. No, that'll just me to sleep quicker. Let's do some exercise. I'll do some push....
