Prescription

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Other  |  House: Booksie Classic
Psychological short story based on dissociative identity disorder, tell me what you think and how shit I am :)

Submitted: August 26, 2012

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Submitted: August 26, 2012

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Prescription

 

Marhys had been waiting for this all day. It was time for knock-off at his construction site. He was a typical Australian bloke with clean-cut hair and a stocky figure. At home his Missus was waiting, hopefully with a hot meal. By outward appearance Marhys could not be more typical of a 23-year-old Australian male. Like all people however, Marhys had his problems. He was an Insomniac and had been since he was a small child. He had had a rough childhood, abusive alcoholic father, emotionally tortured mother, the standard dysfunctional lower middle class household. Marhys didn’t really like to talk about his childhood.

 

On the way back home Marhys stopped by the chemist to pick up the latest prescription his doctor had given him. This was the sixth drug he’d tried since he began seeing Dr Green, the latest in a long line of sleep specialists that he had seen. This one was some new sedative, which followed the alphabet-soup medicinal naming rules. He hadn’t been paying too much attention at his last appointment, too focused on how he was going to drive home without blacking out from exhaustion. The one thing he did remember was that it was the last pharmaceutical alternative he could try, although the meaning of even this was still shrouded to him in a haze of exhaustion. What he was going to do if these pills didn’t work (as he was sure they wouldn’t) was still a mystery to him.

 

Upon arriving home Marhys went through the daily motions. Walked through the door, kissed his girlfriend on the cheek, ate a meal, some idle chitchat. Soon enough it was time for the routine torture that is bedtime for an insomniac. It was at this time every night that the exhaustion really hit him; his pre-bed routine was always carried out like one of the slow zombies from an old horror film. Before he knew it he was in bed and his girlfriend had turned off the lights. Lying in bed he soon entered the sleepless yet exhausted state that belongs to insomniacs while everybody else is sleeping. Where every system in your body is screaming for rest but your mind is running a mile a minute. Things get strange when you’re in this state, mixed up. Weird thoughts go through your head and, for Marhys at least, no memory ever remains of this time in purgatory come morning.

 

Sammy woke up; he was in the living room of a nice looking middle class home. He didn’t really remember how he came to be there, the drug and alcohol fuelled haze of last night made sure of that. Sammy was a nocturnal creature. During the day he slept, either at his house or at the house of whichever guy decided to take him home the previous night. During the night however, Sammy frequented the local bars, pubs and clubs. He was young, why the fuck not? Although he was beginning to tire of the constant rest-less, almost near death feeling he had from constant night outs. Not that he wasn’t used to it, even when he was a small child, clean of the drugs and alcohol that plagued him now, He had still lived his life as a perpetually tired wreck. Sammy had scorned seeing a doctor or even psychologist about this for many years, favouring instead the medicinal touch of a near-constant bender.

 

Sammy walked out the door of last night’s mysterious house. He didn’t bother to say his goodbyes; he knew they weren’t expected. He got in his car and started his evening with the pub-crawl like he normally did. The night was progressing as usual, a few numbers here, a few drinks there. Before he knew it Sammy was in a state where he could forget about his troubles and his failures. For every concern he felt about where his life was going, he’d order another shot. Every gloomy sentiment about how god damn tired he was every day was met with yet another drink. Before he knew it Sammy was being taken home by one of the big bartenders from one of his regular hangouts – The cycle was ready to start again.

 

Marhys noticed that the sun was shining and came out of his strange comatose state. His thoughts throughout that night had been confusing and strange on an almost profound level… If only he could remember them. It didn’t matter; it was now time to face another day of menial, hard and above all, tired work. He left his room and walked towards the kitchen, narrowly dodging the huge vase that was placed rather obtrusively on the side of the hallway, as he did every morning… Except this time he didn’t – the vase fell almost as if in slow motion. The vase was a family heirloom of Marhys’ and had been in the same house as him since he could remember. The few seconds of it falling felt like eons to Marhys’ sleep deprived mind. However when it smashed on the floor Marhys felt more awake than he had in years, he felt like a normal healthy person, he felt alive. When the vase fell, what tumbled out were years upon years worth of prescription sleeping pills. It was in that moment that the pieces fell into place. It was in that moment that Marhys and Sammy finally made their acquaintances, coming together as though they had known each other for years, because, of course they had. They knew each other better than any two separate people could. He no longer knew what his name was, but the young man did not care. Two conflicting consciousness’ existed inside him, arguing back and forth. And yet the young man still did not care. He slumped down in the hallway in a burst of comprehension and as a wave of exhaustion rolled over him, he slept.

by Harry Nagerstine 


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