Placebo-remedy

It's still dark when Ace wakes. For a minute he lays still, tries to determine what has woken him. He becomes aware of something dark, sticky, across his pillow, in his hair, wet on his face. He can taste it, thick and metallic, on his tongue. He feels the familiar panic rise in his chest and he stumbles down the hall, his breath catching. Please, please, please not again, please. His left hand is a haze of pain against his consciousness. Please, please PLEASE not this time, not again! His feet ache against the cold kitchen floor. Eyes closed, he fumbles for the lightswitch. The third try succeeds and the world glows orange under his eyelids