(continued from Release)
It had taken Chad what seemed like forever to fall asleep. Images of Carrie on the pavement outside the nightclub, her face, arms, lips, the faint taste of blackcurrant on her tongue. Should he have called her when he got home? Would she have been sleeping? Should he have gone in the taxi with her? She had seemed to be too drunk; too upset; too lovely. Should he call her now? Wait until morning? Drop by her house on the way to work?
He didn’t know why she had been in so much pain, but he could guess. Three years out of school and they both still ran with the same group of friends. He had known exactly who that asshole-boyfriend of hers was seeing on the side. He had known that the jerk had planned to break up with her, had known how he would do it, and had even known when it would happen. He had known, and yet he’d not warned her. What kind of friend was he?
Sometime between the 9th turn on the pillow and the 19th run through this endless maze of thoughts, he must have fallen asleep. Bare seconds later he was awake – instantly. He lay, alert, ears straining into the pitch-black silence of his room, eyes staring uselessly.
He needed to pee. Perhaps that had woke him. But no, he could slumber on for hours with that pressing feeling in the back of his dreams, usually with a pee-stiffy adding an extra twist to those stuporous half thoughts. Finding nothing, his mind drifted slowly towards sleep.
Eyes snapped open again as he heard a sharp crack. His head whipped towards the window – someone throwing stones. Throwing the covers aside he started towards the window.
A bobbing sensation reminded him that he was naked so he fumbling for his jeans. He stuck a leg in one side then almost lost his balance in the dark as another stone cracked against the glass. ‘Coming, coming,’ he muttered, hopping towards the window, one leg in, one leg out.
He slid his other appendages into the jeans, carefully buttoned up, then pulled aside the curtain. Eyes half closed against the glare of the streetlight, he peered down. A figure in the lawn in an ill-fitting coat, arm raised to throw another stone. Who the hell …? He narrowed his eyes further and blinked. It was Carrie!
(continues in Screaming)