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Fists filled with ashes
Topic Started: Aug 22 2009, 02:12 AM (240 Views)
ElTejon
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That Guy You Know
[ * ]
((Finally got it finished. Just a little one-shot that hopefully lends a better view into Sean's thought processes))

How many nights can I stay awake like this? A day? Two days? A week?

It was a fair question to ask right now, considering what he had planned for himself this weekend. Three nights of sleepless wonder, with nothing more than pain and caffeine to keep his senses tight and alert. He still had a few reservations, but it wasn't enough to discourage him from seeing this through. If this worked, then he would have a leg up on his Calculus test on Tuesday -- three straight nights to study and memorize everything he could that might end up on this next exam, which Mr. Hagerty, a portly Calculus teacher who had a reputation for handing out extremely difficult tests, had assures them all yesterday would be the most important exam of the semester.

Just thinking about what his teacher had said gave him the shakes. Sean was no stranger to hard work, but what awaited him in his next Calculus class sounded like nothing less than an instrument of torture. The test itself would be 80 problems, with 30 of them word problems and the other 50 being multiple choice. The real kicker was that some of the multiple choice problems would also require a short answer that described how exactly he'd figured it out, which in Sean's experience was a lot harder than it sounded. He knew the world problems would slow him down a bit -- he never was very good at those, no matter how hard he practiced for them -- so he would have to remember to do them last.

There were so many other things her tried to make a note to remember. Soon, her found himself staring off into space, which was something her couldn't afford to do. He shook himself out of his thoughts and sat down at his desk, where a Calculus textbook and a few cans of Red Bull sat on top of a massive pile of worksheets and scratch paper. He cracked open a Red Bull before opening his textbook to chapter 21, which he gave a brief once over before grabbing some paper and a pencil. Taking a long chug of the energy drink, he sat his Red Bull down on the desktop and began to copy some of the practice problems out of the book. After he'd finished working these problems, he'd look over some of his homework assignments, just to give him an idea on some of the questions that hiss teacher might decide to include in the exam.

Can never hurt to be prepared, Sean thought to himself before taking another swig of Red Bull. That was his motto and he was sticking to it.

---------------------------

At 7:00 in the morning, he started to doze off. He'd been fighting the oncoming effects of exhaustion all night, and his efforts had cost him an entire case of Red Bull, which had only given him a buzz that seemed to get weaker with every can he drank. Now they were all gone, and he silently despaired at the thought of giving in to the alluring temptation of a quick nap in his bed, which threadbare and dirty as it was, was starting to seem pretty damn comfortable right about now.

That couldn't be allowed. he had to stay focused on the task at hand; if he couldn't get through this, then what hope would he have at college, where the workload would be triple what he had now? Still, a little nap wouldn't hurt too much...

"No," he muttered, one eye seemingly glued shut as he stared without sight at the open pages of his textbook, which were illuminated only by the light of his desk lamp. Papers and pencil shavings were strewn everywhere, all across the carpet, and some dim part of his mind realized that he would eventually have to clean up the mess he made before this was all over. But that could wait, it could wait, yeah it could wait....

Oh shit, he'd almost nodded off again. He couldn't afford that, couldn't let himself...

No! No! Stay awake!

He snapped back to attention, a soft moan escaping his throat as he denied himself sleep once more. How many times had he almost drifted off to Neverland? Twice in the past ten minutes? Wait, had it been ten minutes, what time was it?

He checked the clock, and was surprised to see that an entire hour had gone by. A big bright red "8:00" flashed like a traffic signal right in his face, and for a moment, he was really, really tempted to just abandon the whole idea, close up his books, and curl up on his bed for a little shut eye. He was even starting to get a little woozy, which would leave this whole thing worth for shit if he got dazed enough to start making mistakes in his calculations. So far he'd managed to stay pretty accurate, and alert...

Alert. He knew a good way to stay alert. One of the kids at school had told him about it, but he'd thought the Red Bulls would be enough. Truth be told, he'd actually held some reservations about trying this out on himself, but if you wanted to succeed, you had to be willing to go through just about anything to stay on top.

Just about -- no, anything.

Anything. Anything. Anything.

He got the cigarettes out, still keeping up that feverish chant in his mind as he brought one out of the carton and lit it with a lighter he'd found out in the school parking lot. Not even thinking about it made what he was about to do a whole lot easier.

Taking the lit cigarette in his hand, he held out his other palm, playing the fingers wide and stretching the flesh out tight.

Here goes nothing.

It happened so fast, he barely even felt anything, even as he ground and twisted the burning embers into his palm, scorching and warping the flesh into a blackened mound of ash and bloody tissue. The pain came after, hitting him so hard he had to bite his lip to keep from crying out. It was so bad, so beyond the scope of what he'd prepared himself for that he almost couldn't go on doing it again.

But he did. For perfection's sake, he did it again fifteen minutes later, this time making two burns on his left palm before balancing the damage with a burn made into the fleshy web between his left pinky and ring finger. After the deed was done, he took his pencil back into a shaky hand, wincing momentarily as the wood rubbed against a fresh wound before continuing his studies.

At 10:45, he made two burns on his right palm after snapping himself out of a twenty minute nap on his desk. After he flushed the two bent and broken Camels down the toilet in his bathroom, he staggered drunkenly to his desk and sat down, ignoring the hard creak of his chair as he stared at his lap through bleary eyes. Lack of sleep had left his mind in a stupor from which no clear, rational thought could be obtained without a strenuous mental effort on his part. As if that weren't enough, he could barely think through the pain that screamed up at him from his blistered, ash-blackened hands.

But he was awake, and there was still so much work to be done.

He sat there for a few moments staring at his palms in mute disgust. Then the realization struck him. Groaning, he almost buried his head in his hands, but stopped himself and settled for hanging his head low to the ground. He couldn't believe he hadn't realized something so obvious.

How in the hell was he going to finish his work when his hands were all burnt to shit?

"I'm so fucking stupid," he hissed under his breath. He'd never felt more disgusted with himself in his entire life.
V4 Characters (Pre-Game):
Mercedes Wilson
Claire McGowan
Sean Carver
Spidey Vassar (NPC)
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