When the whispers first started, he thought maybe it was a symptom of his condition resurfacing. Like maybe he wasn't diligent enough about trying to get in the occasional hour that seems to reduce the worst of his symptoms, like maybe sleep deprivation might've been coaxing the hallucinations back stronger than they've been in months. Except, no amount of sleeping (what little he could actually physically force himself to do) seemed to relieve it.
If anything, it's been getting progressively worse with each passing day. It's gotten to the point that he can almost feel Spencer's breath against the shell of his ear, like the lunatic asshole is standing right behind him. It seems imaginary-head-voice-Spencer's been bored, because he keeps whispering gradually more violent, psychopathic suggestions β particularly when Jack's zoned out, when he's at his groggiest, when it takes him a second or two too long to go wait, what the fuck am I doing? and stop himself from listening. It's gotten to the point that Jack hasn't been able to try and sleep, because that dickbag decides to up the ante as soon as he settles in and closes his eyes.
And let's not even mention the screens. That fucking place he keeps winding up in any time he tries to visit the gas station. No, we're absolutely not going to talk about that.
He's agitated, frayed at the edges. Mentally fucked up, at the very edge of his rope, and on the tipping point of flat-out snapping.
Which is probably a horrible time for him to walk into the room he shares with a teleporting ninja experiencing a particularly unpleasant bout of face blindness. )
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( It's been a terrible fucking week.
When the whispers first started, he thought maybe it was a symptom of his condition resurfacing. Like maybe he wasn't diligent enough about trying to get in the occasional hour that seems to reduce the worst of his symptoms, like maybe sleep deprivation might've been coaxing the hallucinations back stronger than they've been in months. Except, no amount of sleeping (what little he could actually physically force himself to do) seemed to relieve it.
If anything, it's been getting progressively worse with each passing day. It's gotten to the point that he can almost feel Spencer's breath against the shell of his ear, like the lunatic asshole is standing right behind him. It seems imaginary-head-voice-Spencer's been bored, because he keeps whispering gradually more violent, psychopathic suggestions β particularly when Jack's zoned out, when he's at his groggiest, when it takes him a second or two too long to go wait, what the fuck am I doing? and stop himself from listening. It's gotten to the point that Jack hasn't been able to try and sleep, because that dickbag decides to up the ante as soon as he settles in and closes his eyes.
And let's not even mention the screens. That fucking place he keeps winding up in any time he tries to visit the gas station. No, we're absolutely not going to talk about that.
He's agitated, frayed at the edges. Mentally fucked up, at the very edge of his rope, and on the tipping point of flat-out snapping.
Which is probably a horrible time for him to walk into the room he shares with a teleporting ninja experiencing a particularly unpleasant bout of face blindness. )