Read Online A Note of Madness by Tabitha Suzuma - Free Book Online

was a slow and painful way to die. Downing four with a swig from the bottle, he felt a certain flash of self-destructive satisfaction. The whisky burned his throat. He felt as if he were giving God the finger. I can beat you on this, he told him. If you make me suffer, then this is what I’ll do.
    He returned to his bedroom with the bottle. He felt too hot. He threw open the windows and cranked up his stereo.
Don Giovanni
was still in the machine. Perfect. Always
Don Giovanni
when he was down. He threw off his jeans and collapsed against the pillows, bottle in hand. How much till I pass out? he wondered. He would get there eventually. He had all the time in the world . . .
    As it was, he never found out. Time ceased to exist, although suddenly the window had filled with darkness and the air wafting through was chilled. Every time he went to the loo, the room spun a little bit more. It was strangely satisfying. The last time he tripped and banged his elbow against the door jamb. It didn’t even hurt. He could no longer feel pain. This is what I want, he thought. This is what I want all of the time.
    Ow, stop! Ow, ow, stop! He realized after a while that he was only thinking these words, not speaking them. Speak! he told himself angrily. Tell them to stop shaking me like that!
    ‘Wake up! Flynn, for Christ’s sake, wake up!’
    Stop shouting, he tried to say. Stop shouting. Get off!
    ‘Open your eyes! Would you just open your eyes?’
    He took a deep breath to reply and found himself blinking at the strangely patterned blue carpet. It looked vaguely familiar but was at an odd angle, stretching out from beneath his nose. The shaking stopped. His arm felt sore from where it had been gripped. He lifted his head and closed his eyes as the carpet began to whirl. There was a hand on his chest, pushing him backwards. He felt a hard wall behind him and sat leaning against it, his head falling back with a dull thud. Harry’s face swam into view.
    ‘What?’ he demanded irritably. What was wrong with the guy? Why did he have to wake him up like that?
    Harry swore. Flynn blinked hard, trying to keep his eyes open and his head up. Harry hardly ever swore.
    ‘What the hell have you been doing?’ Harry’s voice was breathless as he sank down to a squatting position against the opposite wall. They seemed to be in the hallway, outside the kitchen.
    The bottle of aspirin was now in Harry’s hand. ‘Whisky and aspirin? Are you trying to kill yourself?’
    Sluggishly, Flynn’s mind returned to the alcohol and the pills, the golden sunlight and the unbearable pain of being. ‘What time is it?’ he slurred.
    ‘Just gone one,’ Harry retorted. ‘In the
afternoon
. What’s
wrong
with you?’ His voice was high-pitched in disbelief, or perhaps it was disgust. He looked odd and flushed.
    ‘I had a headache,’ Flynn lied easily.
    ‘So you drank half a bottle of whisky?’
    Flynn groaned. ‘I don’t remember. I’m going to bed.’
    He moved to get up but Harry stopped him. ‘Wait!’ There was a look of sudden concern in his eyes. ‘I thought for a minute you were dead!’
    ‘Well I’m not.’
    ‘But you could have killed yourself. Are you crazy?’
    ‘Yes,’ Flynn snapped. ‘I’m crazy, Harry, OK? Just leave me alone.’ His head throbbed so badly it hurt to speak.
    ‘Listen.’ Harry sounded faintly desperate. ‘We’re mates, aren’t we? Just tell me what’s going on.’
    ‘There’s nothing you can do.’
    ‘I’m sure I can think of something! Come on, Flynn, help me out here. I’ve got to go back to class but I can’t just leave you like this!’
    ‘You can! Just go!’
    Harry stared at him, shocked and hurt, and for a minute Flynn felt almost sorry for him. Then his pity turned to anger. Harry had woken him up. Now he was back to reality, with a crashing headache to boot. God knows how long it would take to get back to sleep again. He reached out his hand for the bottle of aspirin but Harry jerked it