Oh, physically I'm more-or-less still, huddled in a chair, snug up against the desk that holds the computer (and a lot of other random crap), Ryan and Becca both drifting into sleep behind me. Only my hands and my eyes move, for the most part. I barely even pause to stretch.

Inside, though... inside I'm pacing, back and forth and back again, steps falling counterpoint to my heartbeat while I argue with myself.

I hate this feeling. I hate this NEED, this craving. It isn't what I want to be.

Funny thing is that I know - KNOW, spot-on - that I wouldn't be this tense, this full of the Craving, if I wasn't also hitting vicodin withdrawal. Unfortunately, that knowledge doesn't help. It doesn't keep me from stalking through the shadowed, dusty corners of my mind, leaving pawprints as I go.

I want to make him suffer.

*sighs softly* ...and if I remain awake, present, for much longer... I will.