Falling Falling Stars

39 - Post-Mortem

Notes: Another chonky boi. Also a warning again in this chapter for a memory involving the non-prescription drugging of (and momentary violence against) a distressed minor.

*

Monday was quiet. It wasn't only that the day itself was made up of audio transcription – and giving serious thought to quitting doing surveillance for the data company – but everything in Efnisien's mind was simpler. It was easier to live in the present. He added a little bit of sugar to his porridge. He looked at his bank account and finally ordered a satchel that would fit a water bottle in it, and then he ordered a water bottle, and then left his bank account alone.

He got a text that night from Arden.

Hey, babe. Checking in – how're you feeling after yesterday?

Good, Efnisien wrote. And then he sent a black heart – which used to belong only to Gwyn – and he pressed his lips together because he didn't really send Arden emojis, but it was also hard not to.

That's GREAT, Arden sent back. Just, if anything changes, and it feels weirder than normal, get in touch, okay? Heyyyyyy, also, you want me to come over to yours Thursday morning? I got a whole morning and I want to put your name in my calendar so I can tell everyone else that I can't see them because I'm busy.

Efnisien rocked back and forth on his hips, then eventually replied that yes, actually, he would like to see Arden on Thursday, but that he had therapy in the afternoon. Even that felt simple. Later, he reread one of his books on deep sea creatures and closed his eyes and fell asleep imagining Stupidhead doing his little bobbing dance, up and down, side to side.

*

Tuesday was strange. Efnisien entered a weird place where he was aware things were uneasy and a bit unpleasant, but he didn't feel bad exactly. He had a few intrusive thoughts, but no more than usual, and definitely less than he was having a few months ago. He made tallies on the whiteboard. He found a piece of notepaper and wrote:

Hallucinations
Lludd
Medicine
Dumb fucking past

He shoved that into his wallet, so he'd remember to bring it up when he saw Dr Gary. Normally he was happy to talk about whatever, but he wanted to stop hallucinating shit that never happened, and he didn't know if he needed anti-psychotics or something. He didn't want to turn into someone even crazier. Arden deserved better.

Every now and then he'd think about what it felt like to kneel on that cushion. He'd imagine kneeling, and sometimes he looked around his apartment for somewhere to kneel. But there was no one to kneel for, and his apartment was...so fucking drab.

He wanted to go to the bookshop, and he was getting better about going out, but he didn't want to go walk that direction again any time soon. He could feel thunder in his chest when he thought about it, a rumbling that meant he wasn't ready, even if he was getting better at getting groceries.

When he drank a glass of water, he thought of Arden's hands around the glass, tipping it forward. When he ate a walnut, he thought of Arden holding one against his mouth.

That night he found himself on a deep downward spiral, a rabbit hole of looking up Wikipedia articles about the kinds of people that ended up isolated and falling in love with serial killers. The passive idiots who married them, who helped them, who became accomplices, who were too weak to stand up for themselves. Who always seemed hapless and shocked that they ended up in jail too, going from the control of one person to the control of the state.

Efnisien brought the piece of paper out of his pocket and added: Weak!!!

He stared into space and wished he could tell if he was being paranoid or not paranoid enough.