Real Horror Is Listening To The Ones You Love Screaming

My roommate and I just got back from him having major dental surgery. He’s in really bad shape. Severe head pain from the anasthetic, gaping bleeding holes in his face… it’s not a good scene. He’s been weeping since we got back, unable to articulate what he needs with a mouthful of gauze. My sensory issues mean that I can’t use the sterile gloves to put the gauze in: I have to use bare fingers, so I’ve been compulsively cleaning my hands. I don’t know if the pain medicine they’ve given him is strong enough. I don’t really know anything at all.

I put him up on my bed, since his room is at the other side of the house and I have to work, but I still need to watch over him. So every thrash, every groan, every garbled plea, is right there in my ear. He can’t sleep. The pain is too severe. One begins to wonder what the point was; didn’t we do this because he was in too much pain to sleep?

He’s screaming while I write this. It’s fucking destroying me. At least while he’s screaming I know he’s not dead.

He’s a big man. He’s got a deep voice. I’ve always been jealous of it. The screams rocket between guttural, a bull in terror, and shrill, a pig in pain. Something is inherently dehumanizing about severe pain. That, or I’m just an asshole.

Is ice going to help? I hope so. Why was I the one left in charge? I can barely care for my goddamn self. I can’t care for my friend. I don’t know what to do! I don’t know what to anticipate!

He’s my best friend, and all I can do is sit and listen to him suffer.

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