Where Nerves End

CHAPTER 1
    One night without waking up in pain didnt seem like too much to ask. Just one goddamned night. Eight hours of uninterrupted unconsciousness. No scalding hot showers at three fifteen. No forcing back pain-induced nausea long enough to throw back a few pills. No waking up feeling like Id been hit by a truck and hadnt slept in months.
    Just. One. Night.
Either it really was too much to ask, or I was asking the wrong deity, because I was awake again. And tonight, even more than recently, it was excruciating.
Pain had jarred me out of a semi-sound sleep in the form of a white-hot blade extending from my left collarbone to the back of my shoulder. It didnt matter how many times this happened, it always startled me, and always made my eyes water.
Biting back curses, I carefully freed myself from Kyles— Kevins?—arms and gingerly sat up. Once I was upright, I took a few slow, deep breaths until it all subsided enough for me to open my eyes and focus them.
The alarm clock said a little past four, whichmeant Id been asleep for less than an hour. Now that was just cruel, damn it.
I needed a hot shower. That would loosen up some of the muscle spasms. I got up, moving carefully and quietly so I wouldnt wake up…whatever his name was.
In the shower, I closed my eyes and tried to just breathe while the water—turned as hot as I could stand—beat on my shoulder. The pain had eased a little, at least. I tried to find some comfort in that minor relief, but I knew better. As soon as I was out of the shower, the spasms would come right back, sinking unseen teeth into my entire left shoulder.
I slowly released my breath and focused on my game plan. Once the water stopped, Id have less than five minutes to get downstairs, eat something, and take a painkiller. Any longer than that, and the spasms would have a chance to move back in before I could head them off at the pass with some chemical intervention. As long as I could pull it off in that time, I stood a small chance of getting some sleep before the sun came up.
In theory, anyway.
Toweling off wasnt a pleasant procedure with a fucked up shoulder. I dried off just enough to keep from dripping all over the hardwood floors; slipping and busting my ass wouldnt help matters. By the time I made it downstairs, the pain would be back with a vengeance, and sometimes it was bad enough to nauseate me. That, in turn, complicated the whole “eat something and take a pill” part of the equation.
Dry enough to avoid creating more hazards for myself, I wrapped the towel around my waist and headed downstairs. In the kitchen, I flicked on the light above the stove. I wasnt big on convenience food, but I kept a few things like yogurt and bagels handy specifically for nights like this. Something that didnt require any preparation and wouldnt aggravate the nausea that showed up on the worst nights. Nights like this.
Id have kept it all upstairs, along with the painkillers, but Id convinced myself the inconvenience of keeping it all down here would prevent me from taking more than I needed. If I had to wake up completely and come all the way down to the kitchen instead of just popping a pill while I was halfawake, then Id only take them when I absolutely needed to. In theory.
I settled on half a bagel, and while I slowly, carefully ate that, I stared down the bottle of pills just like I did every night. My doctor was as concerned as I was about me becoming dependent on these things, and I tried to make each refill last as long as possible.
Is it bad enough tonight? Can I just suck it up and sleep on it? Do I really need this?
I rolled my shoulder, and the motion carved bright red lines along my collarbone and through the muscles. My eyes stung, and for a few seconds, I couldnt even draw a breath. Yeah, it was bad enough. I needed the drugs.
I swallowed the pill. In a few minutes, Id go back up to bed, and with any luck the drugs would kick in before sunrise. Hopefully it would at least take the edge off; Id been taking this shit so long, I was building up a tolerance, and it helped less and less every time. My doctor had suggested a higher dose or something stronger, but I wasnt ready to go there. That seemed like a slippery slope to being more dependent on this shit than I already was.
Sighing, I rested my hands on the counter and slowly tilted my head, trying to stretch the muscles across my shoulder blade. Not that it ever helped, but that didnt stop me from trying.
Something had to