One cure for insomnia

I started with a jute rope, a treadmill, and an asshole named Depression. If you inspired me, thank you!

It was still pitch dark when Drew opened his eyes. No light escaped the edges of the dark drapes on the window, no sounds came from outside. Drew closed his eyes again and tried not to think. He did not think about sleep or about trying to heave himself out of bed. He did not think about yesterday and he did not think about today. He tried but failed to not think about her.

Drew lay in bed with his eyes closed and tried to stop thinking about her. He opened one eye and eyed the clock. Damn, 3:47. He tried to think only happy things about her like back at the beginning. He thought about her face, her smile. He did not think about her voice. He did not think about her voice for four minutes, until he opened the other eye and peeked at the time. 3:51.

Her voice pinned him to the bed. Her sweet voice kept him immobile. Her voice, sharp as a Taser, made him weak, submissive. He thought about moving, about trying to move, and he found that he could only move his eyelid. The florescent red numbers did not lie. 3:55. He stopped trying not to think and gave in.

Drew, she called. Drew, open your eyes, Drew. Get up and look in the mirror, Drew. You are so hot, she murmured. Drew knew better. She was lying. Drew knew he was not hot, he was too damn heavy and too damn nothing to be hot. Her voice, melodic, paralyzed him. Only his eye could move to let that red light in. 3:59. He hated her.

At 4:00, Drew lept from the bed and yanked open the nightstand drawer. He pulled out the rope he had already tied just the way she told him to, and he found the jute knot comfortingly sturdy. He took out her rope and he hung it from the hook before he slipped on his sneakers and stepped onto his treadmill in the corner. He set the 30 percent grade just how she liked and stepped on. He slipped his head through her rope and he imagined her hands tightening it. He began walking.

By 4:03, the glaring red light from the clock snuffed out and Drew felt himself floating in complete blackness. She stood before him. Everything about her was perfect: her pale skin, her light hair, her smile. “Asshole,” Drew growled at her. She only smiled. Drew felt the corners of his mouth turn up as he reached for her.