Novel & Cerita My Brain Trembles

My hands began to tremble, and the room tilted just slightly, a dizzy haze blurring my focus. “I just need a minute,” I muttered, pushing myself up from the bed. Tessa’s head lifted, her brow furrowed, but I didn’t give her time to question me. I walked quickly toward the bathroom, each step driven by the need to get away before she saw just how shaky I was.

making my body tremble even more I wanted to move, to do something—anything—but my legs wouldn’t obey me. I stood there like a statue, my hands trembling as I clutched them against my chest. Behind me, Lucas remained silent. I glanced back at him, hoping he would say something, do something to take charge of the situation, but he just stood there. His face was unreadable, his eyes dark and stormy.

I wrapped my fingers around it, hoping the warmth would steady me. It didn’t. Instead, my hands began to shake. At first, it was subtle. A small tremor. Something I thought I could control if I just… focused. But then it got worse. My fingers trembled uncontrollably, the mug rattling softly against the saucer. My breathing became uneven, my chest tightening as a strange weakness spread through my body. What… what is this? I tried to lift the mug, but my grip faltered. Clink. The sound of ceramic hitting the table echoed louder than it should have as I quickly set it down before it slipped completely from my hands.

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.

~~~ We stood in the center of the broken Core, two strangers sharing the same breath. The silence between us was a living thing, heavy with the weight of everything he had forgotten and everything I couldn't stop feeling. "Is that why your hand is shaking?" I asked, pointing to his right hand, which was clenched at his side, the silver ring glinting in the dim light. He looked down at it, his expression one of clinical disgust. "A muscular tremor. A side effect of the neural discharge."

My heart is pounding and my hands are trembling. "Don't move." Damn it.

My arms tremble but I do not stop until they almost give out. The restlessness stays. It wraps around me from the inside, tight and suffocating. Like invisible walls inching closer. I know what this is. I know why it is happening. I move to the leg press and load more weight than I usually would. I sit back, place my feet against the platform, and push. My muscles protest. I welcome it. Push. Lower. Push again. If I can exhaust my body, maybe I can control it from happening. The thought loops through my head as I push myself harder, faster, stronger. My muscles are already trembling from training and the gym, but I do not stop. I move from the leg press to sprint intervals outside, cutting a

My heart slams once, hard, like it’s answering back. I stumble back from the chair, breathing ragged. The shaking is uncontrollable now, the sweat rolling down my temple cold as ice. I drag a hand down my face, but the tremor doesn’t stop. Something’s wrong. I know that much. I lift my head and stare at the ceiling, trying to ground myself but all I see are flashes of her eyes. It fucks me up more. My heart won’t slow down.

My whole body trembles, a low, uncontrollable shudder that seems to resonate down to my very bones. Lance sits on the edge of the bed, his head bowed, the muscles in his back coiled tight, each ridge standing out starkly in the dim light. His hands clench and unclench at his sides, fingers flexing as if he's trying to grasp the weight of his mistake.

The bandages had already been limiting enough these past days, and I had learned to move around them, to work with what I had instead of waiting for what I didn’t. This felt like that again. Just… worse. I shifted slightly where I stood, adjusting the phone in my hand, forcing my grip to settle, forcing the motion to feel normal even when it wasn’t. It worked— For a second. Then the tremor returned, sharper this time, and the phone slipped just slightly in my hand before I caught it again. I steadied it. Tried not to think about it. The space around me was quiet, the kind that made every small movement more noticeable, every minor sound more defined. It was the kind of quiet that should have