Pain

The pain in his head was overwhelming. It threatened to engulf him. He would close his eyes tightly, trying to block it out, to no avail. What would happen was, his eyes would hurt from the pressure, tears would involuntarily form at the corners. The pain would not subside. There was a storm raging, one that threatened to drown him. Clouds drifting overhead lazily, black, loudly, as if they had all the time in the world. He hated them, and the thunder they invoked in his head. His eyes were dazed, confused, unseeing. The pain was creeping in, making him itchy in every corner of his head and body. Heart pounding with an electric current and speed. Eyes burning from the pain. It was ever present, omnipotent. The pain was the master, he was the slave. He would acquiesce to every one of its demands if only it would give him a moment’s respite. It did not. It did not need to.

He grabbed his head, shook it around, screamed internally. Nothing changed.

It was as if the pain inside his head was laughing at him. A deep grumbling, raspy laugh. It would not subside. It had all the power, and he had none. It was in control, and he was not.

Thoughts other than the pain were blurry, there was a singularity. Eyes closing, darkness spreading. Red around the edges, darkness. He welcomed the darkness. Not so much the red expanding around the edges, the hot red of pain.

The pain was overwhelming. It was no longer threatening to engulf him. It had taken over. It had engulfed him. He was a prisoner in his own head, looking out at the world through a prism of hot red anger. A hint of fear, a heaping of resentment. The background color was red, was anger. Some green for envy. He was trapped in his head, everything around him was on fire. He was looking through his eyes, but he was not controlling himself. He was writhing on the ground, and was writhing in his head. The pain was prevalent.

He was stuck in that field of fire. He was burning, fire creeping through his skin like sweat. And yet, that was not the most painful part. The most painful part was the storm raging in his head. Every clap of thunder, every icy drop of rain, every last bit was tearing the landscape of his mind. It smelt like burnt trees. The landscape of his mind felt rough, sharp rocks piercing his feet as he got up and stumbled around, screaming. His screams echoed back at him from the mountains all around. Fire roared, and grumbled. Thunder cackled. Everything burnt to the ground. Everything was burning, dying. The world was aflame. He screamed. No one heard him. The fire grew louder, as if it enjoyed this. He grabbed his skull with both hands, pulled his neck back and screamed at the sky. Nothing but pain. Darkness. Pain. Nothing but pain.