Blink: 9

Rick spent another few hours trying again. At the same moment it happened again. He was back in the kitchen holding the Coke. Almost subconsciously he returned to the living room and began again. The same thoughts going through his head again. His thoughts overlapping, like he was talking to himself. This time it was two voices, telling him the motions and thoughts he should have. If he did it again there would be three voices. He rolled the can in his hands, occasionally sipping form it listening to himself. The can was soon empty, this time he hardly had to think of it at all this time.
He was in the kitchen, holding a full can. He started for the living room but stopped in the doorway. His mind was pushing him to go into the room and drink the Coke and think about time travel. He could feel his previous thoughts pushing on his current ones. Against his desires he put the can back in the fridge and went up to his bed. He was tired, and was pretty sure he had not slept in what felt like the last twenty-seven hours.

He couldn't sleep with the noises in his head, and he hit a even thirty hours before his mind finally quieted. It took even more out of him to not think about getting a soda at three despite his brain screaming to go back. He was concerned, he was beyond concerned, his new found ability had drawn a fine line. He could go back and relive or change a moment, but he realized almost too late that there was a limit, or a level of discipline to it that he just didn't have the ability to control. He had nearly blinked himself out of reality, destine to relive the same mundane three house for the rest of his existence. He wondered if it kept up, would he pass out from exhaustion? Would losing consciousness stop a cycle that was ingraining into his mind. He wouldn't do it again. Not unless it was absolutely necessary, or of extreme benefit to him. He wouldn't blink back more than once... He wouldn't go back more times than he could handle. Rick sat up. He had to get a handle on himself. Subject to loose interpretation he nearly died just a few hours ago, and seemed willing to put the metaphorical loaded gun to his head again already. He needed to come up with some rules. More importantly he needed an objective opinion on the situation. As he finally fell asleep he thought about his Dad.