I’d been staring up at the dark ceiling for hours, with black concealing every part of my vision. Dogs barked outside in the distance while a few car’s headlights shined through the glass door as they passed by, illuminating the room in flooding light. The cars’ engines went on and on, making a soft rumble far down from where I laid. Every single noise outside echoed inside my ringing ears, over and over. 

I’d had insomnia bouts multiple times before, but they never got any less irritating, no matter how many times they happened. Sometimes my mind would drift off into some strange amalgamation of weird thoughts morphing into dreams, but my eyes would fly back open in a moment when I started to become dizzy or weightless, and began falling (or, it felt like it). It wasn’t like I could do something to fill the time until I passed out. My whole body was fatigued and aching, my sore legs were shaking underneath the blanket with no sign of stopping, it was all too much to accomplish a grueling task such as pulling myself up from bed. Whenever I made the incredible attempt to actually do anything at all, I could barely force my eyes open enough to pay attention, and they’d fall shut, then open once again once I was on the verge of a dream. I couldn’t fucking fall asleep, is what I’m trying to say.

I turned over on the couch over and over, multiple crumbs rolling against my legs. To the left, then to the right, then right again to my back, staring at either a dark couch, a dark ceiling, or far off to the front door of the room. I shuddered from the cold that lingered all over the room and stuck on my skin, and yanked the blanket further over me, but it wasn't long enough to cover my whole body. My feet were freezing the most, since socks that were about as thick as a sheet of sandpaper did absolutely nothing to help. Not that the blanket mattered much anyway, since it was too thin and matted to keep me warm. I had the insufferable urge to take a drag, but my cigarettes were sitting on the drawer in my bedroom. 

The frozen metal of my phone pricked at my fingers as I grabbed it from the floor. With a click, I winced as the light flashed my eyeballs. I squinted through the intense glow and the smudges on the screen to see that I had received some messages from my friends. One asked me if I wanted to hang out this weekend, and one other was talking to me about some game. I wanted to pull out every strand of hair one by one just thinking about going to hang out. Normally I would’ve said yes to make them feel comfortable, but I couldn’t find it in me to do that right now, or later. My fingers hovered above the keyboard as I tried to brainstorm a good message, but nothing came to me. I’d been trying to hold it off as long as I could, but the lack of a text back would make them worry. But I still decided to wait for a little while to text them back. There’s always tomorrow.

I opened a couple of the stupid brain-rotting games and tried to play through them, but I couldn’t get myself to pay any attention. There was only one thing I could think of to do anymore, which was get up and eat something. I wasn’t even hungry, my stomach was already full, but I wanted to do something other than what I’d been doing for the past 6 hours. I decided to ignore the fact that I would definitely get progressively nauseous after two bites and that my gag reflex wouldn’t let me eat much at a time without gagging and wanting to puke.

I grazed my fingers through the knots in my hair and jerked myself upwards to go find a snack, and then go and smoke. I stood up from the couch and stumbled across the room, trying not to trip over any trash or clothes, but my balance almost broke from under me as I slipped on a food wrapper. I kicked it out of the way after tearing into my arm, ready to send a nuclear bomb down here if I tripped one more time. 

I flicked the lightswitch on and shuffled into the dirty kitchen. The counters were crammed with dirty dishes that had been waiting to be washed for days. A small round table sat in the middle of the room, holding a few more dishes and half eaten takeout food. Rust and grime decorated the walls and extended to the floor, and some food had fallen in various spots. A few of the cabinets were open, some which were either filled with more dishes, garbage or needles and old bandages. I got queasy ever looking at how much was piling up in the sink, and averted my eyes from even catching a glance at it. The bulb above me constantly flickered and left me in darkness every couple of seconds, but I had gotten used to it. I kicked a few more cans and wrappers out of the way, and opened the fridge to search for some goods.

I scanned the pathetic selection for anything that wouldn’t wreck my stomach at 4:00 A.M. Soda, soda, beer, cheese, leftover pizza, leftover ramen… It wasn’t looking good. The chill of the fridge was starting to freeze me over, so I was about to go back to sleep. But I remembered that I had an apple somewhere, near the bottom.

I forced open one of the squeaky plastic drawers and grabbed a red apple hiding behind some beer cans. I turned it all around in my hand, trying to see if it was even edible. My brain was too fuzzy for me to remember when I’d even bought it. I probably got a burst of motivation to eat healthy for a day and gave up once I realized that actually required effort. So for all I knew, it had been rotting in there for years. But it looked mostly okay, and there’s no way there wasn’t worse shit in my system. I was going to cut it anyway, so it would be obvious if there was something bad about it and I needed to toss it. 

I rested the apple by the sink after shoving some stuff to the side and pulled out a dull knife from the drawer. I had to cut it into small chunks so I could chew it better. I couldn’t bite into anything big without my mouth feeling like hell. I wouldn’t have even been surprised if I lost a tooth trying to take a bite from anything at this point.

I had to drive the knife in pretty hard and strain my arm to get it to even chop it into cubes. But after slogging through the whole process, I was able to come out with a few good chunks. The apple appeared to be fine quality as the insides became visible, only a couple brown spots showing themselves that I could just remove. But even though it was going fine, I pushed too hard in the wrong direction and had my hand in the wrong spot, so before I could react, the knife slashed down right into my skin. Everything in front of me blurred out, obscuring the wound for a good few seconds. As my vision started to focus back again after blinking rapidly, it turned out I’d severed a giant gash straight between my fingers that were now trembling and numb. I couldn’t get myself to move away, my shallow breathing becoming obvious as my arm laid dead. 

Oh, for fuck’s sake.

The feeling of thousands of small, sharp pins being jammed inside of my searing wound with every movement of my fingers struck me immediately. The knife dropped with a clatter as my good hand flew underneath the other to make a lame attempt at catching the gushing blood. But everything was getting drenched and stained in bright red as the liquid began to spill over my fingers. I wasn’t sure if I’d have to go to the hospital for this, but I really, really didn’t want to. Fuzziness prickled at my eyes as I spun around a couple times with no purpose. All I knew was to try and stop the blood from coming out, but my idiot brain was working at a snail's pace. 

I finally gathered enough common sense to grab some paper towels and toss them down, red soaking across the paper as it absorbed the blood. They quickly became soggy, so there needed to be more, but that was the last thing I had to worry about. I didn’t have any wrap bandages right next to me, so I had to use a towel I’d tossed on the floor some time ago. 

The room in front of me twisted and turned as I bumbled around trying to find the couch. Once I found it and splayed back out, I held back a groan, watching the ceiling sway back and forth. All I hoped was that it would stop bleeding eventually, or that I would at least be able to stand without falling over. This was just a ten times worse version of an obnoxious nosebleed. I tried my best to suck it up and say that it was fine, but I honestly just wanted to toss myself off the nearest bridge. I pulled the blanket back over me and laid my heavy, throbbing head down on the pillow, while trying to take in a couple deep breaths. My stomach was coiling and spiraling, spinning in circles in a nauseous cycle, trying to force me to puke. Backwash shot right up at the back of my throat, leaving a large lump sticking there and making my mouth salivate. 

This was one of those times where I felt disgusting. I was freezing, I hadn’t showered in days and was pouring with sweat, my head was heavy and dizzy, my hand was throbbing in pain, my stomach was nauseous and I was trying to hold back puke. It was like I was being suffocated by my own body, smothering me in gallons of torture. 

How do I even do these things to myself? Please, just let me sleep.

But checking the wound hundreds of times, the bleeding began to loosen up, leaving the towel soggy and dyed red mixed with brown. I tossed the cloth beside the couch on top of more garbage. I’d probably wash it later, maybe, if I even remembered. Everything around me began to slow into a subtle rocking motion until it faded out. I could finally examine the cut, which was a deep, repulsive slit between my thumb and pointer finger that aggravated my stomach enough to start turning again. The skin folds were inflamed and every stretch of my hand made a sharp pain shoot up through my arm and clump there until it disappeared. I guess as long as I didn’t tear it open somehow, it would be fine, although that didn’t resolve any of my other pain. I could only hope it wouldn’t pull open further during sleep. I felt too ill and was shuddering too much to want to eat or loll around. After continuing to endure the final bits of pain, trying my best not to move so I wouldn’t get stabbed awake, my eyes finally started to become weary, and I soon fell asleep.

Once I woke up to the gentle wind humming against the window, I could only describe the feeling I had as a creeping sense of peace wandering through me. It didn’t fall away or escape in fear. The weight that usually loitered in my chest was replaced with a strange warmth radiating all the way to my toes, and the usual chill of the room was blocked from freezing me through my clothes and blanket. The pillow and couch was the most inviting it’s ever been as I rested my feathery body on it. All my pain, soreness, nausea, headaches, it was like it all was extinguished overnight. I didn’t even have the urge to get up and take a drag or even take a shot of heroin.

It was so odd, that it actually freaked me out. What could possibly have happened that I was feeling so…. placid? None of this was right. All I could think was that I was in the realm of dreaming at the moment. The pain was bound to come rushing back, for sure. It had to come back soon. All this was just creeping me out too much to enjoy it for any longer.

But as I arose all the way from the pillow, the bizarre comfort didn’t leave and I was only somewhat groggy. My eyes dragged to each corner of the room for some explanation, but it turned out the answer was laying in my arms, snuggled against me- a pure white teddy bear, wearing a dress and a bow. I brushed along the soft fur, which was relaxing to even just touch, and so addicting to strum against. The whole bear was firm in design but still squishy and friendly. I got so distracted by the immaculate quality of it that it made me forget about my surroundings and drop it from my mind, at least for a little while. 

“What..?” I said, my voice hoarse. The question dropped from me faster than my sanity during a bad trip. Maybe I was on a trip right now.

Not that this was the weirdest thing that could happen to me, obviously. But I don’t own any stuffed animals, so it’s not like I could’ve picked one up without realizing. Although it wouldn’t be surprising if I’d somehow tossed one in here and forgot about it. And even if, theoretically, I ever owned one, it would go on my shelf. I wouldn’t hold it while I was sleeping, at least not on purpose. And obviously, it wasn’t that part that was the weirdest, it was… how relieving it was to hold it.

It was extremely strange and somewhat embarrassing, but I had to admit- The tighter I held it to my chest, letting it hug me back and protect me, the farther away the crippling discomfort of every day was. It seemed like nothing more than a far, distant memory, falling away into the scary but faraway past. It was like a dream, like I wasn’t sitting in filth but instead I was resting in a dreamy, removed part of the earth, snug and relaxed. The thoughts of embarrassment were almost swept away alongside the rest of my inhibitions, but they trickled back into my head to tear me away. My hands were shaking as I held it far from me, trying to break through the confusing yet blissful fog. I couldn’t tell what this weird-ass stuffed animal was doing to me, or whether to be concerned or not. I was leaning towards ‘concerned’, frankly.

I lugged myself up from the couch and slumped into the creaky kitchen chair to observe the bear. The stuffed animal itself had entirely white fur. It wore a traditional white dress that flowed all the way down over the bear’s legs. The sleeves were puffy and it had a frilly neckline with lots of intricate lace. Underneath the dress were piles of frills. To top it off was a two bows clipped on both ears and a big bow with a falling veil behind its head, all of which were white. 

It was strangely dressed, more like some vintage fashion doll rather than a teddy bear. Not that I knew much about teddy bear fashion, maybe this was what was on the market nowadays. It’s not like I would know. The weirdest detail was that the light brown eyes had a golden luster to them, and it was smiling up at me with an amiable, cheerful aura that asked me lovingly to hug it once more, but I had no way to tell if it was me making shit up. 

I sighed, twisting the bear’s fake fur between my fingers. I wasn’t sure what to do with any of this information. Should I just give it up? I didn’t know if this thing was cursed or something. I could just chuck it off my balcony and call it a day. But I’m a bit worried that if I did that, it would come after me. It obviously has some sort of magic ability or something. I could toss it in my closet and forget about it. Technically it could still come after me if I did that too. Was I actually worried about that happening? Maybe. 

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