For a moment he thinks he really might lose it. He can feel his face getting hot. Some kind of frantic noise is rising inside him. His need to obliterate himself vibrates through his whole body. But the worst part of it all is that aside from his eyes getting glassy and his hands shaking, none of it manages to actually explode out of him; he can’t get rid of the energy. The medication puts a lid on him, almost always stops him just short of blowing up, and he has to keep suffocating with it until the fire finally goes out and he’s numb again. The orderlies are careful not to provoke him in the first place, mostly he’s been in a haze, but whenever he has visitors it gets harder.
For now he’s in the middle of it, and it hurts. It’s not the kind of pain he wants. “Is that what you came here to tell me, Lee? Because Jesus Christ. Please.” He grits his teeth. For some reason, he doesn’t want to cry in front of her.