Obviously I don't own Avatar. Duh.
This fanfiction is partially autobiographical, and more than a little bit dark and obsessive. It's rated M for language, themes, and possible lime. Not that that will ever happen. It's just a precaution.
This chapter is basically an introduction to the main character, Lisana, who only wants to go to sleep…
I screamed inside my head.
I was so sick of trying to sleep. Trying and failing, kept awake by my own abnormally amplified senses.
I twisted in my bed, shutting my eyes. I tried to exercise the mental control that worked everywhere else. I tried to make myself think of nothing.
But I couldn't. Why couldn't I fall asleep? It wasn't because I wasn't tired, I was sure. I was so damn tired. I knew the next morning I would look in the mirror and see violet-stained eyes and someone would ask me if I was getting enough sleep. And I would smile and lie because I didn't want the temptation of sleeping pills. I'd tried that once. It hadn't ended well.
I gripped my head in my hands and pulled at my hair until I felt the sharp pain of strands escaping my scalp. I could see colours in the dark. They drove me insane because I knew they weren't really there.
I sat up in my bed and the springs creaked. I swung my legs over the side and reached for my laptop. As least I was allowed to have that in my room. I supposed that they assumed I couldn't cut my wrists with a keyboard.
I flipped it open, felt around for earphones on the carpet, plugged them in. I opened a Within Temptation song on the media player and clicked Play. I typed.
Typing helped. I knew I wouldn't fall asleep at the keyboard and risk discovery (oh blessed sleep, not for me). I would put it away at five in the morning and lie in bed and pretend when the sun came up.
Just like I had for the past four days.
My fingers moved.
Yes, just keep whining little emo kid, someone up there cares, no they don't, god get over yourself why don't you, who cares? Why don't you just die, die, die, die, die, diediediediedie…
It was somehow comforting, pressing the same three keys over and over in the same pattern.
The music helped. It stopped me from hearing sound too clearly. I hated how the strange sensitivity only came at night. At least if it had been during the day I could have pretended to be sick. Which, in a way, I was. But everyone already knew that.
Maybe I should take the sleeping pills. But I could see how well any request I made for those would go down. My mouth hardened. I would just have to live with it, just like I always had.