Numb

His malaise memories feel like blistering bugs crawling on his skin. Yet, not one manages to come in. Left inside, his rotting brain is only thoughts slowly, slowly draining him away. He feels like a zombie as he bites down on a burger. His friend's words feel like a cicada buzzing, and as hard as he tries, he can’t decipher any of them. Another bite. His barren brain gets murkier. As he chews, it feels like a chore. 

Something his friend says finally becomes clear. “You look tired, is work keeping you up late, man?” 

No, it was the heavy thoughts that forced his eyes awake. Thoughts that drove wildly without a brake. Years ago, it was different, his days felt filled with endless sleep. One thing remains the same, restlessness found him again and again. He smiles a careless one. No one knew how much his worries harassed him. How could they? One who hides behind a smile, usually never lets anyone see that deep. Oh, and how deep his pain ran. Pain is something you can’t ignore, for if you do well, don’t be shocked if you hear an odd knocking on your door. 

He is saved from answering the question as his friend’s phone rings. His friend picks up, and tells the person on the other line he’ll be over soon. After his friend hangs up, he tells him something. 

“That was Jordan. She needs me to head back. It's the anniversary of her sister’s death.” 

“Oh, I’m sorry to hear that.”

“It’s so strange. How could someone be so happy, you know, just end it?” 

There were so many causes for unhappiness yet when presented in front of someone on a platter they could never spot it. For everything could be hidden with a smile. 

“No clue.” He comments, mournful not of the person they speak of, but for the happiness he himself could never touch. 

“We’ll hang out next week, right?” His friend asks, thankfully changing the topic.

“ I can’t.” He replies before he can think of an excuse. 

“Why not? Got a date with your digital pen you can’t miss?” 

There’s passive aggressiveness in his friend’s tone. This lunch happened after five rejections. The first one he had said he was busy, but the reality was he couldn’t find the energy to leave his bed. The others were the same reason, but each response was filled with flimsy lies. His friend could tell but thought it meant something deeper, causing him to picture a rift that didn't exist. If he looked closer, he would see just how unattached the person in front of him was becoming from his own being. But most never look close. The surface is where judgment lies and as you know anything can be hidden with a smile. 

“Always, inspiration is everywhere, you know.” He playfully replies, smiling. 

He hadn't drawn in months. His computer, tablet, and desk were covered in dust. Every attempt to draw ended abruptly because his focus was never there. 

“Don’t forget to send it. I’ll text you later.” His friend says, leaving.

At his apartment, he ends up on his couch with his coat still on. Hours pass with a blink, till, finally, he gets up. He dresses for bed, but tonight he gets out his tablet and digital pen. The page stays blank as inspiration plays keep away with his brain once again. Then he thinks of his pain. He begins to draw and is shocked when a vulture-like creature greets him on the screen. Its eyes look like it holds death in its glare, and its feathers are strange because there are none. Instead, there are scales that look as if they belong to a sadistic snake. He doesn't save his creation. He exits the app, turns off his device, and starts a futile attempt to sleep.

At one am, he hears a knock.  It sounds like an ominous drumming of a woodpecker about to lose it all. At first, he ignores it, assuming it goes away. It doesn’t. He blasts music to drown out the noise but the sound is louder. Frantically, he searches for his earplugs. They weren’t on his nightstand. No, his nightstand is covered in to-do lists he would always say he’d start but never did. He checks the floor. All he finds are clothes he meant to wear but never found the energy to dress in. He puts his hands over his face and lets out an anguished cry. The noise stops immediately, so he plops back into bed. 

Nights always feel endless because days constantly blend together. Today, his shirt is blue. He was supposed to shave because his beard was getting itchy, but his energy was gone. A show is playing on his tv, one of his favorites, yet he doesn’t pay attention. When he does it’s at his favorite jokes and he doesn’t even laugh at them. A smile is hard to fake when there’s no audience around. His phone rings and it’s his little brother. 

“Yo, big bro!” His brother greets him in high spirits. “You wanna go to the batting cages today?” 

Sometimes when he spoke, words disappeared before he could say anything. It was funny how empty his mind could be when it was so stuffed.

“Ez?” His brother continues, anticipating his answer.

“Yeah, I’m here.” He answers, knowing full well he really wasn’t.

“So batting cages?”

He lets out an exasperated breath. “I don’t think I can make it.”

“Again? Come on, you didn’t even go with me to the barber last week like you promised.” 

“You’re not a kid, Ed. You don’t need me looking out for you down at the barbershop, anymore.”

“No, but that’s like our thing, Ez. What’s going on with you? Did I do something?” 

His brother hadn’t done anything. It wasn’t about him at all. 

“I didn’t sleep well last night cause something was drumming at my door.”

“Did you find out what it was?” His brother asks with concern. 

“No, I just left it alone. I’m not looking for trouble, you know.”

“Yeah, I get that but keep on the lookout. Could be someone trying to get in or something.” 

“I’ll do that.” He replies, yawning. 

“I’m gonna let you sleep, big bro. Call you tomorrow?”

“Sure, have a good day, and keep out of trouble.” 

“Yeah, yeah, ” His brother replies,  brushing off his brother's words. 

The call ends. He decides to attempt to sleep like his brother suggested. Sleep does come to him, but when he wakes up, it’s near one in the morning. To him, it feels like another day wasted. Another day where he feels like a failure. One am comes around, and the drumming of his door follows soon after. 

He’s set on ignoring it once again but a spark of an old trait makes itself known. Curiosity. He was once a curious boy and when left alone, he would make the most wondrous creatures. There was a time when his mind was an escape. Now, it was the only thing he wanted to escape from. Moving off his bed, he grabs for his baseball bat. He had a real natural knack for it once, and he even thought he could make a career out of it. It didn’t work out. Nothing, for him, ever did. 

There’s no point, a thought that crept on him often. Sometimes energy came in very small bursts, but that thought—oh, how it doused it all away. He’s close to giving up but this time, his nature wins. With the baseball bat in hand, he heads for the door. As he nears it, he’s plagued by questions. Was it a drill? And if so, who was holding it? 

At the door, he looks out of the peephole. A yell emits from him as he falls back in fear, for the thing he saw was the very creature he drew the day before. His phone is in his hand before he even realizes it. It rings and his friend’s groggy voice says hello. 

“Come, please. Please come,” His voice is frantic. 

“I’ll be there,” the person replies without any hesitation. 

As he waits, the noise seems to grow louder. He moves his couch around to create a barrier, hiding underneath. His body is covered in sweat as he presses his hands over his ears, trying to drown out the sound. 

The noise stops. He takes his hands off his ears and hears the sound of knocking instead. He slides out of his barrier, opening the door. As his friend comes in, he speaks to him with mushed-together words. 

“Hey, take a breath,” His friend calmly says, as the door closes behind him.

A breath. A breath couldn’t fix his fear. It couldn’t take away what he saw, but he takes one, anyway. 

“I deleted it. I know I deleted it. How can it be real?” 

His friend looks at him. Him without a smile. Him who is rotting away. Then his friend looks around and sees the very things he always tries to hide. 

“Ez, are you okay?” 

“Yeah, I’m fine,” He says, robotically. “I just…I needed um…”

His words are lost. Soon silence will be all he knows. He is losing. 

“Ez, you don’t seem okay.” 

“Something was outside my door and it was something that I drew. But I deleted it. I know I did.” 

His words come out fast, a heartbeat so wild drums inside his chest. Then he hears the drumming on his door again. He screams because it was all he could do, and yet as he screams, he still feels numb.

“I’m gonna get you some help. Just stay here, okay?” 

“No,” he grabs the sleeve of his friend's jacket. “I’m fine.” 

His voice is shaky. There’s no strength to hide it, but even in his desperation, he uses his secret weapon. A smile. 

“Why don’t we go to the hospital, just in case?” 

He straightens up. His smile is still plastered to his face. 

“No, really, I’m fine. I haven’t been sleeping lately and I have a deadline so…”

There’s a voice in his head, a voice that’s been silent for too long. It tells him to be honest. To admit every fault. Help. Help. It cries, desperate to feel seen. 

“You gotta ease up with the work, Ez.” His friend replies. 

His smile has worked. The voice crying for help gets quieter. The drumming on the door gets louder. 

“I will.” He replies, then begins to shoo his friend out. “Sorry for calling so late and for everything.” 

A burden. He felt like a burden. 

“It’s no problem, but promise to get some sleep, okay?” His friend looks at him, worried. 

“I’ll go try to do that now.”  He opens the door, and the creature that haunts him isn’t there. Yet, the drumming stays consistent in his mind. 

“Alright, call me tomorrow, then.” His friend says, walking out the door.

“I will.” He answers, knowing full well he won’t. 

The next day, the effects of the drumming sound consume him. His head hurts as his thoughts feel at war. All he could feel were the carcasses of them thrown at his feet. Tonight, it will end. He’ll end it all tonight. Today, he talks to his brother, his tone light and airy as he’s desperate to hide his intentions. He tells him he loves him. He’ll always love him, and he even says he could have his precious baseball card collection tomorrow. The one he never lets anyone touch. Tonight will be his end. 

One am comes, and that drumming starts again. This time, with a bat in hand, he opens the door. The creature attacks him with a vicious rage, and he could feel its hatred for him sear his skin.  He gets one hit before he’s pushed down. Its claws strike him slowly and forcefully, and he bleeds. He is still numb.

He is losing a battle in which he feels there’s no winner. Tonight, it will end. As he lets the creature know it’s victorious, he hears someone calling his name. It sounds like Ed. They say the night forgets, but people they remember. How many times had he felt worthless? Like, he could never be enough. But oh, how he was enough.

He wakes up in a hospital room. His brother is sleeping in a chair at his bedside. They always only had each other. How could he forget? Tears fall from his eyes as he recounts his night. 

His brother stirs awake. 

“Ez, you’re okay!” His brother cries in relief. 

He wasn’t okay. Guilt displayed in every corner of his mind. He was in a maze that he couldn’t find his way out of. 

“No, Ed, I’m not okay.” Ez sobs. 

Ed comes closer and wraps his brother up in a hug. “I love you. Don’t give up. Never give up, Ez.” 

“I’m gonna get help. I promise.” Ez tells his brother, who hugs him tighter in response. 

Yes, Ez, is in a battle, one not easily won. The creatures are always creeping around, drumming in our heads, but for every night there is a dawn, and one just has to hold on.