

I knew it wasn't the best of ideas. Hell, any man worth his salt knows that, but the pain was what was driving me the most. It's like an old enemy, constantly gnawing at you. Somewhere deep inside, you know it's not intelligent, but when it comes, it comes at the worst of times, and it certainly feels like it knows what it's doing. Probably should explain more. My name is Michael. Last name isn't important, at least not anymore. What happened to me could have happened to anyone, really. See, I was a construction worker out of Nevada. No place really special, just doing contract work. Small stuff, really. Someone wants a garage? Done. A deck? Easy. How about a carport? One car or two? Easy money in the bank. That was until I fell off the roof of a house a while back. Wound up in the hospital for a long while. Hell, I don't even remember hitting the ground. It was all a blur. I trip, fall, next thing I know it's been almost three days and I woke up with my new friend chewing his way up my spine. The damn pain. Doc says I messed myself up pretty bad, honestly. "You're lucky you can walk, let alone still be alive." Yeah. It was a nasty fall. I spent almost six months in recovery. Not all for healing, but a lot, and then learning how to "manage myself". Lotta physical therapy, learning to walk again, shit like that. You know, you never think you'll have to learn to walk a second time, but it's certainly a shocker. After that? Well, I wasn't climbing on roofs anymore, I can tell you that much. I know a couple people who were still in the business and I help them out from time to time, but mostly I stick with small things. Cabinets, furniture, minor home repairs. Not just because I don't want to fall off a roof again, but that is a pretty big motivator. You're not interested in my carpentry skills, though, are you? You want to know more about what happened. Well, all right, let's get on with it. The Pain is a thing that, for all intents and purposes, I have personified. Lotta weird shit happened once I got home again. Angie, my wife...heh, probably should have mentioned her sooner, well, she took care of me. Doted on me like I was made of glass. I appreciate it, honestly, but you gotta get back out there eventually, you know? Anyhow, that's when the pain started messing with me. See, I remember helping her one night, cooking something or other...can't quite remember what. Not really all that important. What is important is The Pain and the damned pan. Big, heavy metal thing I was pulling out of the oven for her. Had the fancy mitts on and everything. Call me Betty Fuckin' Crocker. I was proud of this, mainly because bending and lifting things was still really tricky, but I was determined. Got the mitts, assured Angie that I was ok, and I was bending and lifting with no problems at all. I even remember thinking "Hey, maybe I am getting better.". That's when The Pain decided to show up. I swear it felt like someone stuck a lightning rod in my spine. Everything froze, went numb for about half a second, then it felt like my entire back was made of broken glass. I think I screamed. No, I must have. Angie looked terrified just before that hot fucking pan slipped right out of my hands. Landed on my foot, too. If it wasn't for my shoes, hell, I think I'd have been back at the hospital. Now, I've never been a man with a temper, but I guess something snapped in me. Angie remembers it better than I do, but me? I think I blacked out. All I remember is hurting, and next thing I know she's gone, the pan is still sizzling on the floor, and I'm hunched over the counter as The Pain subsides. I'm lost for a bit. I couldn't even remember my own house. It all came back, like a flood, and I went after her. She's in the dining room, pissed at me, and I'm still confused. We have one of those "you know what you said" and "no, I don't" arguments that go nowhere. It isn't until later when we're both cooled off that she is more worried. "When you said you don't know what you said, it isn't that you lashed out, is it?" she asked as we sat together on the sofa. "No. I mean...I don't remember what happened. I don't know if that's normal or not after the accident, but...I am sorry." She shook her head, focused on me. "What do you remember?" she asked, seeming really serious, but also a bit frightened. I told her everything and she nodded. "I'm going to take you back to the doctor's tomorrow."