Jason: Late Night Reflections

It was late. Very late. Incredibly late. Or was it early? 'Fuck it, doesn't matter.' All that mattered to Jason was that sunlight hadn't began to shine through the lone window of his room, so sleep could wait a few more hours. The dull pain in his chest was a reminder to take his meds. He stumbled over a small pile of clothes and cursed softly. After taking a moment to scowl at the dirty laundry, 'that'll show 'em', he scooped the small bottle of pills off the dirty, cluttered table. 'First try!'

The pill bottle's cap refused to come free and he sure as hell wasn't putting his beer down to use both hands. He tightly clenched his cybernetic hand closed, his eyes struggling to focus. The bottle bent and split, the plastic tearing apart with ease. Pills erupted, scattering about the table and floor as they were freed from their plastic, capped prison. Jason let out a loud chuckle, temporarily losing his footing as he stepped back from the table. His body came crashing to the ground, ending in a seated position with his back against the foot of the bed as his chest continued to heave with laughter. 'Still got my beer!' His laughter slowly faded out as it was replaced with more throbbing pain.

He scooped up as many pills off the ground as he could reach. 'What did it say? Do not exceed 6 in a day? 8? Whatever.' He tossed back a handful and washed them down with a large swig of his beer before rising back to his feet on shaky legs. The room spun, twisting and turning as he hobbled his way towards the washroom and propped himself up in the doorway. His eyes focused, then refocused on the man in the mirror. He studied his shirtless form, his eyes lingering on the seams where flesh and cybernetics met. Without even realizing it, he began tracing the seam with the fingertips of his free hand. 'Reaction, not action. That's good.' his mind mused even in his drunken state.

But it still didn't feel right. It didn't feel at all. It may as well have been a strangers hand. The slight pressure he felt as his fingertips danced across his skin was a poor reminder of the sensation he had lost. No. Given up. 'It doesn't feel.' He couldn't stop his mind from wandering. From imagining the seams opening up as metallic tubing erupted, snaking its way up his arms. He could've swore there was just a hint of a blue glow behind his eyes that wasn't there moments ago. Panic began to course through his veins as his breathing heavied. Even if he was able to bring her home, what had he lost? Would she even want him like this? 'Not important. All that matters is making sure she's safe. If you have to give her up to ensure that, then just deal with it.'

The visions faded. The tubing disappeared. The blue glow was replaced with the poor lighting of the bathroom fixture once more. But he still barely recognized the person in the mirror. 'Why would she want you?' His eyes watered up as his grip tightened around the neck of his beer. Cracks slithered across the surface of the bottle until the whole thing shattered into a waterfall of cheap alcohol and glass. Jason leaned against the wall, unable to keep himself upright anymore, and slowly slid to the floor as the thought just kept replaying in his head. 'I'll never be able to feel her hands in mine. I'll never-... I'll just sleep here tonight... It'll be fine in the morning...'