Losing Control : His Madness, His Cure Chapter 235

I sigh and head back to the kitchen. Albert’s already there, there’s a glass of water waiting for me on the counter. I down it in one go, the coolness sliding down my throat like a small mercy. He doesn’t say anything right away, but I can feel his eyes on me, searching. Like he’s trying to piece something together he can’t quite name.

“Food’ll be ready in a minute,” he says finally, without turning.

I nod, even though I’m not hungry. My stomach’s been off lately, appetite shot to hell, but I don’t tell him that. So I sit at the table, pretending I’m not unraveling a little more quietly with every breath.

He eventually sets a plate in front of me....rice, a bit of stew, and some steamed vegetables. It smells good, but my stomach turns at the sight of it. He sits across from me, folding his arms on the table, his gaze steady.

“Eat up,” he says. It’s not a suggestion.

I pick up the fork, shift the food around a little, then take a small bite. He doesn’t stop watching me. It’s not the kind of look that makes you uncomfortable exactly.....more like he’s trying to piece together something I haven’t said yet.

“You sure you’re not coming down with something?” he asks finally.

I shake my head. “No. Must’ve been the heat.” He nods slowly, like he doesn’t quite buy it but won’t push. I take another bite, force myself to chew, swallow. The movement makes the pounding in my head worse, sharp enough that it steals my breath for a second. I narrow my gaze at the table, trying not to let it show....but he notices anyway.

“Headache?” he asks.

I glance at him, then give a small nod. “Yeah. No big deal.”

He lets out a low sigh and stands up, muttering something under his breath. A few minutes later, he’s back with a couple of painkillers in one hand and my refilled glass of water in the other.

“Take these once you’re done eating,” he says, setting them down beside me. “And you should’ve said something, kid. Janice mentioned you were looking a little off lately. Now I see what she meant.”

I don’t have the energy to answer, and honestly, I wouldn’t know what to say even if I did. He straightens his shoulders. “We’re more than halfway through anyway. I’ll go finish up.”

“I can....”

He cuts me off before I can even finish. “Nope.” He points a finger at me, firm as ever. “You’re gonna sit here, eat, take that medicine, and then go rest on the couch for a while. Try to get some sleep.”

I open my mouth, but he narrows his eyes in that way that says *don't even think about it.*

“I’ll be back to make sure you did what I said,” he adds, one brow raised. “You understand?”

I exhale quietly. “Yeah.”

“Good.”

And just like that, he heads back out toward the field, leaving me alone with the weight of my own exhaustion pressing down heavier than before. I hardly eat half of it before giving up, I can’t seem to taste anything. I down the pills with a gulp of water and sit there for a moment, staring blankly at the plate.

Eventually, I push myself up and take it to the sink. I wash it, watching suds slip off my fingers and swirl down the drain. I wish it were that easy for everything else to go away too. I dry my hands and step into the living room. I drop down on the couch, lean my head back and let out a long breath. Just for a bit, I tell myself. Just until the pounding behind my eyes eases up. Then I’ll go back out and help Albert finish up.

My eyelids feel heavy, like someone’s weighing them down from the inside. I don’t even remember closing my eyes. One second I’m staring at the ceiling, tracing faint cracks in the plaster, the next, everything’s slowing down. My thoughts drift away before I can grab them. I can feel it stirring, clawing up through the calm. The pills dull the pain but not the pull beneath it, that slow descent into somewhere I don’t want to go. And before I can stop it, I’m already falling into that familiar darkness.

I don’t know how long I’m out for. It doesn’t feel like sleep, more like falling through something. The air gets thicker with every breath until it’s not air anymore.

There are flashes....bright, sharp, then gone before I can piece them together. Someone yelling, but the words are swallowed. A door slamming. My own voice, younger, breaking.

Then silence again.

When the scene steadies, I’m standing in the living room, but it’s smaller....everything is. The walls, the couch, even the air feels tighter. The TV is on, the dull drone of some late-night show echoing faintly, and I remember exactly what was playing. That’s what’s wrong. I shouldn’t remember this clearly.

My dad’s on the couch. Still. Eyes open. The room smells like something I can’t name. My pulse picks up, a steady hammer against my ribs as I take a slow step forward.

“Dad?” My voice sounds small and distant. He doesn’t move, doesn’t even blink. I reach out, hesitation prickling at the back of my neck. My fingers hover above his cheek. Then I hear it....my name. Faint, like it’s being called from far away. But it’s wrong. My dad never used to say my name like that.

He barely said it at all.

The sound grows sharper, closer. My frown deepens. The air feels wrong, bending around the voice. And then my hand touches his cheek.

His eyes flick towards me too fast...too alive, and he sits up.

I stumble back, gasping....

.....and wake up the same way.

I jolt upright, heart slamming in my chest, lungs clawing for air that won’t come fast enough. The room swims, the walls too close, the light too bright. My throat’s dry and there’s sweat on my skin, cold and slick.

“Jax....hey, easy, easy.”

Albert’s voice cuts through the noise. There’s a hand on my shoulder, firm but gentle. “You’re okay. It’s just a bad dream.”

I focus on his voice, on the weight of his hand keeping me tethered, pulling me back to where I am. My heart’s still racing, my throat feels like I’ve been yelling. I haven’t....but I can’t be sure anymore. I drag in a shaky breath, pressing a palm to my chest as if I can calm it that way. But it doesn’t help.

Why now? And how much longer do I have to keep waking up like this?

How much longer until it stops?