Cognitive Deviance

26. Insomniac

May 20, 2045 - 2:55 AM

Ever since the siege on the House of Pleasure four weeks ago, Margo felt like the world was going out of its way to make sure she couldn't rest.

She lay in bed, staring at the dull ceiling above her. Her apartment was pitch black, with only a small ray of light slicing through the curtains of her bedroom window. The sheets were cold against her bare legs, and she used her free hand to smooth over the bruises on her torso before tugging her shirt down over them. A splint was wrapped around her left forearm, another burden to blame for her insomnia, and she fought the urge to rip it off and scratch away the itches. Luckily, she only needed it for two more days.

"Stop the music," she groaned, and the soothing piano music emanating from her MoodMatcher went silent.

She tried leaning up in her bed but collapsed back into the mattress as a sharp pain jerked through her arm. Learning her lesson, she made sure to avoid putting pressure on her wound and carefully slid up against the headboard. She pulled her shirt up once again, getting a quick glimpse of her shorts as well as the yellowish contusions on her stomach. They didn't hurt as much as they did the previous weeks, but she still hated reliving the moment the shotgun blast penetrated her Blur. It was like getting nailed in the gut with a bat.

Margo turned toward her bedside table to look at the time, 2:55 AM hovering in red holographic numbers next to her glass of water. She grabbed her ThoughtControl piece from the table and nudged it into her ear. She didn't know who she was planning on talking to, but she didn't want to get through the night alone.

With a yawn, she then scooted herself over to the edge of the bed and trudged over to the window, shivering as each footstep met the cold wooden floor beneath her. Through the gap between the curtains she could see the neon green lights of a skyscraper several blocks away from her apartment building, and she advanced toward the lights like a moth. But when she swiped the curtains to the side, she was greeted by an incredibly unexpected sight.

It was snowing. And not just a calm drizzle of white powder. A blizzard had overtaken the Philadelphia skyline, and the city lights glowed hazily in the midst of the snowfall.

Another shiver rippled down her spine like electricity as she pressed her hand against the glass and quickly pulled away. "Ellie," she whispered into her ThoughtControl piece. "What's up with the weather? It's the middle of May."

"What's up with you?" Ellie shot back. "It's the middle of the night."

"I couldn't sleep. I got this stupid splint around my arm and I've been thinking too much about—"

"Let me guess. Either the girls you found in the Psycho Slums, the House of Pleasure incident, a recurring nightmare of when your Blur tore open, or all of the above."

Margo's heart sunk as she closed the curtains. "Have I really told you this so many times before?"

"Yes, and I'm not sure why you think I or anyone else care."

Ellie's connection vanished. Loneliness overcame Margo, something she rarely felt even while alone in her apartment. When she let go of the curtain, she felt like she had released her sister's hand and let her run off into the darkness. She found herself staring at the floor, hurt by that last comment. After spending so much time with clients searching for someone to talk to, she had finally seen things from their point of view. The struggle of finding that person who appeared at least mildly interested in their problems.

"Ellie?" she asked again as she walked to her bathroom, but she didn't get a response.

She stepped into the tiny room and closed the door, removing the splint to wash her hands after doing her business. She splashed her face with the cold water in an attempt to wash away the confusion. Ellie's hostile behavior. The weather. She'd return to reality every time a stinging feeling jolted through her bruised arm when she leaned on it, her injury reminding her there were other things she had more control over her.