Infinite Loop

My fingers are numb. I don’t know when I started playing, but all I know is that I haven’t stopped. The melody I play on the guitar goes from a slow, brushing melody to a frantic plucking in short seconds. Then back again.

My eyes bore out the window, out into the city. The lights are pretty, but I prefer the stars. But then again, nothing matters much, so what of it?

I hear a key click into the lock, and then the door opens. My roommate. “Hey, you’re still up? Why are you sitting in the dark?”

I clench my eyes shut tight when the lights are turned on.

A gasp. I hear as things clatter to the floor, footsteps bound over to me, and my roommate’s breathing becomes unsteady.

“Your fingers. What did you do to your fingers?”

“Turn the lights off,” I murmur. “Please.” My voice is barely audible, as quiet as it is, but there a slight whimper as the feeling returns to my fingers.

I open my eyes and look down as she picks up my hands.

My fingers are ripped open and blistered. The tips are bleeding and my guitar strings are caked with dried blood. The wounds are deep.

I let my roommate pry my guitar out of the cradled embrace it was in, and feel her gaze return to me.

“How long have you been playing?”

“I don’t know.” I reply in a dull tone. I close my eyes again. “Turn the lights off…please.”

My fingers are throbbing. But this pain is much better than any other. I feel my stomach growl, hungry, and I let out a soft groan.

“When did you eat last? Have you eaten anything?”

“I don’t know.”

The back of her hand ghosts across my forehead. “You feel hot. Are you alright?” Her hand presses to each of my cheeks, and then onto my shoulder.

“Can you please turn the lights off?” The energy in my shoulders is dropping, and she guides me back so I can lay down on the couch. I feel her leave my side.

“I’m going to get the thermometer,” I hear her say.

I really couldn’t care. My head is spinning now and all I want is to sleep. But I know she won’t let that happen. Maybe she can’t control that, though, now. I don’t think it matters much.

I hear her walk back over to me, and I feel the thermometer at my lips. I let her take my temperature. I’m falling asleep when she takes it out to read it.

“You’ve got a fever…” Her voice is far away. I can feel her hair on my face. It‘s soft. “Stay awake with me, okay?” She shakes my shoulder lightly. I manage to part my lips slightly, and rustle out a meager groan, but then all fades into blackness.

Author's Note

picture from x-aimzrawr-x on deviantart
http://x-aimzrawr-x.deviantart.com/art/Infinite-263371488?q=boost%3Apopular%20in%3Aphotography%2Farchitecture%20infinite&qo=9