I close my eyes as soon as my greasy head hits the pillow and the plush fabric pushes back against my stubble covered face. Right at that moment when the lids come down my mind is left staring into darkness so deep it recoils like a man on a ledge. But it’s already too late. The what ifs are on their way.

They explode from the darkness like a popping ember in the fire and burst into a blossom of mean spirited sparks. Each little bit is loaded with enough bad intentions to bring down a better defended man, but getting me here in bed is like shooting fish in a barrel for them. They take their time to find the soft bits of me, and land. On contact I hear an ocean of hisses as each individual spark whispers its secrets into my flesh. The what ifs have their teeth in me now and remind me with glee that I have only just now closed my eyes.