Trenton stood frozen at his dresser, knuckles gone white with the way he clutched at it's wooden edge. Did he just hallucinate? He wasn't even high, hadn't been in two days. This wasn't meth psychosis.. maybe an acid flashback?
Whatever it was, it was undeniably fucked up. And something he'd remember vividly for quite awhile.
After a long moment, Trenton loosened his grip from the dresser. Hesitating to move with worry that he might trigger something new. But nothing came, and his expression in the mirror was relieved.