Shattered Wings, Silent Scars

Previously

…I closed my eyes, not to sleep, but to try and manufacture a moment of silence, knowing that the only true silence now lay in the final darkness, a darkness I was rapidly approaching whether I chased the dragon tonight, or waited for the inevitable tide of sickness to consume me tomorrow. The weight of the world, I realized, wasn't the pain of the abuse; it was the crushing burden of needing something external to simply exist, and knowing that something was actively destroying what little was left of me.