“Here,” their mother said. She placed the water on the side table and took the pill bottles from Eileen. “You go close the car door. I’ll do this.”

As Eileen left the room, Clare rolled onto her side and pulled her knees to her chest with her head cradled between both her arms. Light, sound, breathing sent a continuous stream of pain radiating out across the interconnected network of neurons throughout her head.

“Clare, here,” her mother said as she uncurled one of Clare’s clenched fists and placed two pills into her palm. With as little movement as possible, Clare brought the meds to her lips and turned her head enough to allow her mom to get the glass of water to her mouth. After three tiny sips, a thin stream of water ran down her chin, but Clare managed to wash the pills down.

“What else can I do?” her mom asked.

“Nothing,” Clare whispered. Even this small sound echoed through her head like a wrecking ball. “Just go.”

She felt her mom’s cool hand on her neck. It rested there for a moment and then moved to the side of her face. Clare knew she was trying to help her feel better, but even this touch was like a siren screaming across her nervous system. Clare just needed her to leave, close the door, and allow her to wrap herself in silence and darkness until the fireworks exploding in her head stopped. When it didn’t seem like that was going to happen any time soon, Clare begged, “Please…go.”

On the bed next to her, Clare felt her mother’s weight shift and heard her sigh. “Okay,” she whispered and stood up. A second later, the door latched closed with the softest of clicks. Clare, finally left alone with her pain, waited for the medication to cut the edge.

She didn’t move, barely breathed. Her only concern was keeping a steady pressure on her head and any light from entering her vision. Minutes passed, the drumbeat in her brain an erratic spasm that at first gave no sign of giving way to the drugs meant to keep her from feeling like her brains were exploding all over the inside of her skull. But after a while, the pulse slowed, the intensity softened, and Clare was finally able to pull her arms from her head and open her eyes to the soft gray light in the room created by thin lines of bright midmorning sunshine leaking around the edge of the thick curtains. The flashes of light across her vision had stopped, along with the accompanying swell of nausea that always went hand in hand with these episodes.