Not Sleep, Not Rest
Derek awoke to the sound of a rhythmic tap-tap. He blinked, confused, then the tap-tap sound came again. "Sir, are you awake?" It was one of the maids. Derek normally had no problem telling them apart, even from just their voices(he even knew their likes, dislikes, their partners and all the names of their children), but on that morning, the voice on the other side of the door might as well have been a robot from outer space.
"Sir?" The call came again, and he realized that he had to say something back. It took a bit of time to get his vocal cords to cooperate, finally rasping out a rumbling "Yes," That had the person on the other side leaving.
Getting ready was…strange. He walked barefoot on the tiles, his slippers forgotten. Then once he got to the shower, he stood under the spray for a full minute before he realized that the water was ice cold. Things picked up a bit after he sorted that out, and by the time he got dressed and headed out to the garden for his breakfast, he looked mostly like himself. He found his mother there, but she was not at the table, instead, she was off to the side, doing yoga.
"Morning, darling," She called when she saw him, and took him a moment to realize that he had not greeted her back. Luckily, he handled it before she realized, and took a seat.
With all the lovely food spread out before him, his breakfast ended up being toast…just toast. No butter, no jam, no coffee, no tea. Not even some of the cookies he had inhaled the night before could tempt him.
Just four pieces of toast, eaten one after the other, chewed mechanically and swallowed, he did not even taste them.
"Darling, are you alright?" He looked over at his mother, her brows were furrowed, her lips turned down at the corners.
That look meant something, Derek knew what it meant, he just could not seem to figure it out at the moment, so he simply shrugged.
"I am fine mother, just a bit…preoccupied," He'd ended breakfast soon after that, and somehow found himself at work. Words flying over him as people talked in meetings, turning to him every once in a while. Seeming appeased when he either grunted or nodded. Unaware that he was struggling to understand even the most basic of things.
Once all the meetings were over, he barricaded himself in his office and stayed there. Not talking to anyone, avoiding even Emily.
It took him until he was on his way home, for his mind to recall that he had not avoided her completely.
He remembered the feel of her against his chest. Her tiny frame fitting perfectly against him. Her body soft and warm. Their lips nearly touching for a brief second.
It had felt…it had felt…Just as the memory had evaded him, describing the feeling was also near impossible. Something that he would have normally been able to pinpoint without effort, now seemed impossible.
If he was struggling to name what was no doubt an easy feeling, could his recollection of events even be trusted? Had they bumped into each other or had he imagined it?
Pulling over onto the side of the road, Derek, out of nowhere was suddenly overcome by a fit of rage. He screamed at the top of his, hitting the steering wheel and pulling at his hair. Then as quickly as it had started the fit was just…over. He fixed himself up as best he could and drove home.
The pills were helping, he had slept afterall. Even if it did not feel restful, or refreshing, sleep was still sleep, and since the pills allowed him a chance to close his eyes and sleep, he would keep taking them.