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Damien sighs. It had been a long day. His mind reading had decided to be extra sensitive today, which means he spent most of it laying in the spot in the yard that was furthest from most other people.
Matthew had brought out breakfast, and James lunch. Sam had even tried to chase away the squirrels, which was sweet, if counterproductive given his method of yelling as loudly as he could. Mika sat quietly with him for a while, thinking through episodes of her favorite TV show to distract him while letting him slowly sip energy from their intertwined hands. Eventually she found Erik, and they wheedled him until he agreed to let Erik place a low barrier in his mind.
With the spell in place, Damien had been able to function most of the afternoon, but now he’s exhausted. Emotionally, physically, and demonically drained.
He heaves another sigh and tears his gaze away from the reflection of the bags under his eyes. It’s only 9:30pm, but he’s too depleted to care about his sleep schedule.
Damien trudges to bed and collapses onto it. He drapes an arm over his eyes and wills peaceful unconsciousness to take him.
Thoughts stampede through his head, demanding his attention. Damien can feel his irritation ticking up as he fails to ignore them. Instead, each passing observation made by the other residents of the mansion requires acknowledgement. Only adding to the clutter in his mind.
“… we can up it in the fourth quarter…”, James is reading some financial reports.
“… almost out of butter…”, Matthew must be meal planning.
“… One and two and three and..”, Erik does that when he plays piano.
“…shoulders down, elbows in…”, Sam is working on his tai chi form.
“… He went up the bed so early…”, Mika’s worried about him.
Suddenly, a dial in his brain is cranked all the way up. He can’t move, he can’t speak, can’t think. The world is only the static of a thousand overlapping thoughts all at once.
All Damien can do is lay there as his senses are assaulted. Images, perceptions and imaginings strobe in his mind’s eye. Too fast and too jumbled to interpret. Sound is too loud; any coherent words are drowned out by the sheer volume of everything else. The old mansion creaks as it settles, the noise is magnified by each individual perception of it. Damien gasps as the echo seems to stab him directly in the temples. The sharp feeling returns again and again.
Eventually, the static begins to fade. The piercing sensations dull to pins and needles. Damien is able to notice that his skin feels clammy. After a time, the pins and needles fade into a vibration. His face feels cold after his arm flops down to the bed beside him.
Then, finally, a moment of quiet. Mice notice scents in the garbage, and cicadas hear each other’s calls. These are distant sensations, almost too far away to make out entirely. Damien lets himself ponder the smell of maple syrup and the sound of beating wings for a few minutes, before gathering his will power to ignore them.
His brain feels hollow. His own thoughts materialize into complete sentences and bounce around inside his skull.
“Ow my head”
“Was that the worst that’s ever been?”
“No, surely it was when father…”
“Did Matthew put the jar of syrup in the trash without rinsing it out? I told him the mice will get in…”
“I hate to make everyone worry”
“They must be asleep”
Streams of consciousness overflow into each other and a dull ache settles between Damien’s eyes.
“I have to put all my effort into a single thought. As long as I think about one thing it won’t hurt. Ugh, I feel really sweaty. Should I change clothes? What time is it?”
He glances at the digital clock on the nightstand, “1:30am. No wonder I feel like shit. I’m too tired to change, I’ll be fine until the morning.”
Damien continues to consciously think as he tries to unwind enough to fall asleep. He considers his comfort as he tries getting under the covers and rearranging the pillows. He thinks about what could have triggered his episode, but he tries not to think about how it felt.
He keeps glancing at the clock. Hours slip by too quickly yet agonizingly slowly: 1:52, 2:23, 3:01.
“Fuck it! I guess I need to do something so I can reset my stupid dumb brain!”
Damien throws the covers off with a huff. He undresses and wanders to the bathroom by the light of the moon drifting through the windows. He sits in the tub and turns on the shower, letting water fall onto his face until his thoughts return to quiet perceptions.
He towels off and wanders back to his room to put on fresh pajamas. The red light emanating from the clock reads 3:49. Damien fights to keep from turning his frustration into words to echo in is mind. He lays down and focuses on breathing slowly and evenly.
Eventually he cracks an eye open. 4:31. He groans into his pillow and rolls over, studiously thinking of nothing.
“Beep beep beep!” James’ perception of his 5am alarm startles Damien. He has a meeting with a client overseas that he’s anxious about being on time for. After the initial shock, his brother’s grumpy morning routine is calming. Tired muscles relax a fraction as Damien contentedly drifts along with James’ thoughts.
Just as his mind fades into the distance, Matthew wakes up. His thoughts are less orderly, and Damien feels a smile pulling at his lips. Matthew’s internally debating over whether he has enough time to make a pastry for breakfast. “He’s going to be disappointed when he realizes there isn’t enough butter left.”
Damien frowns, trying not to let Matthew’s energy pull him into wakefulness. He almost succeeds, but then Sam is up. He glances at the clock, 6:42. Sam should be out the door by 7 for his run.
After Sam leaves, Erik gets up to take a shower. His routine is the calmest. Damien lets his brother’s steady rhythm occupy his mind.
He dutifully ignores James’ anxiety during his conference call, Matthew’s frantic flipping through recipe books, and whatever song is stuck in Erik’s head. They’re downstairs so the thoughts are quiet, if not peaceful. But then Sam comes back from his run and jogs up the stairs and Mika stirs awake.
Damien shoves a pillow over his head, for all the good it will do him, and tries not to get annoyed by how focused Sam is on his stretches.
Mika wanders downstairs eventually and starts chatting with Erik. His name draws his attention, “Damien’s still asleep? It’s almost 9:30, he’s going to miss breakfast.”
An audible groan escapes him as he finally admits defeat. He slides out of bed and trudges downstairs.