Bottom Jaw Trembling Novels & Stories

"This was a bad idea." She attempted to free her hands but I stopped her again. "Let me go." From her slurred words and how her voice trembled. She got scared to death. "I won't do this anymore." She sniffed. I watched her silently. She drew her lower lip between her teeth. A habit I noticed about her. And now I realized she did it when nervous or when angry. Her chin was trembling. It was not because of the water which was warm and good for a swim.

No trembling floor. And yet I could still feel it. The vibration. The rumble. I blinked several times, waiting for the lingering fog in my mind to clear. Then I turned my head slowly, wincing at the dull ache in my jaw. Brammon sat slumped in a chair beside the bed, his feet propped on the mattress. His head was tipped back at an angle that looked painfully uncomfortable. His arms were crossed over his chest, which rose and fell in deep, steady breaths.

“And the tremors?” “My hands always have a bit of shakiness but it feels like it’s in my entire body.” “Is that unusual for you considering the stress, pain and anxiety of being here injured?” “Honestly, no. I just noticed that the migraine and full body tremors started about the same time after they had started to subside.” “When was that?” I join the conversation now that I’ve finished reading the document Angela gave me. “It started creeping in while at dinner. It hit me hard when you interrupted Dr. Pierce’s desire to do the lidocaine shots around my leg.”

And the new friends we met wanted us to go on a boat cruise. While getting on the boat, I’d seen it in her, the fear. It was subtle at first, but it was there. She hated water. She’d screamed but then immediately, she acted brave like she could do it. But then, her hand was suddenly shaky. That contradiction had stayed with me longer than I admitted. “Do you have tremor?” the new friend we made asked her, seeing her shaky hands and legs. We’d all laughed over it like it was nothing, brushing it aside as a small, harmless detail.

I wanna stand up but I simply can’t because my body is uncontrollably shaking so I curl myself. Blackout.

It was a violent, microscopic jerk. "It’s a neurological tic, likely linked to the same genetic mess that caused the hip issue. He keeps it hidden by always keeping his right hand in his pocket or holding something heavy to steady it. But it’s easily triggered by a sudden spike in adrenaline or, more importantly, refined sugar. His system can’t process it correctly. If he has even a bit of high-fructose corn syrup, that hand starts dancing, and he can’t stop it." "A tremor and a limp," I whispered.

I was moving on autopilot, my mind drifting in and out of thoughts about him. Maybe he was in a meeting right now. Maybe he hadn’t eaten. Maybe he was sleeping too little again. I reached for a bottle of mineral water. And that’s when I noticed it. My hand was shaking. Just slightly at first. I frowned. I held the bottle tighter, thinking maybe I just needed sugar. But when I placed it in the cart, the tremor didn’t stop. It spread. Up my wrist. Into my arm. I swallowed. Suddenly my throat felt dry.

“Hold for four. One. Two. Three. Four.” My lungs protest, but I obey. “Exhale for six. One. Two. Three. Four. Five. Six.” On the third repetition, the trembling begins to subside. On the fifth, my breathing finds his rhythm. On the seventh, the room is just the room again—not the basement superimposed in terrifying transparency over reality. “Better?” Zion asks, without letting go of my face. “Better,” I admit, and it’s true enough. The trembling hasn’t completely disappeared, but it has become something manageable. A low vibration under the skin instead of an earthquake.

I added. I noticed my hands trembling, but I hid them from Benjamin. I didn’t need him to worry about problems that weren’t there. “Then go and rest,” Benjamin said, springing to his feet. “Goodnight.” He took the alcohol with him. **** The symptoms had been persisting for about two days—heart pain, trembling hands—it was more relentless than usual. I kept telling myself it was just stress and that it would pass. But it didn't. I was reluctant to go to the hospital, but Benjamin insisted.

He had been the perfect man for me until he wasn't. Tara hummed, her head bobbing in understanding. I closed my eyes and fervently tried to maintain my composure but all to no avail. My hands were beginning to tremble uncontrollably and I was already having a difficult time breathing well. When was the last time I took my medication? This afternoon? But who cares. I needed my control back. Counting to ten in my head, I abruptly stood up and grabbed my clutch bag. “Umm, I think I need to visit the restroom or something,” I announced, hoping that my movements weren't too frantic and probably hinting at the tremor overtaking my body.