I don’t knowwhy I expected there would actually be someone crying in my bedroom, as I bolted upright once more. My heart thumped a familiar beat, my lungs gasping for air.
It was only a dream. The only crying in my bedroom would’ve been me. But the nightmare had never made me cry, only scream.
This fucking nightmare was going to ruin everything for me.
You’re ridiculous, Blaire. Are you really going to let a silly dream get the best of you?
I started the check of my body to calm my fight-or-flight mode, which was making it difficult to breathe.Hands.Stiff when I squeezed them, and a little clammy, but okay otherwise.Legs.I shook them out, satisfied with the range of motion.Senses.I blinked a few times, straining to hear the fridge’s quiet electrical hum. All good here, too.
See? Nothing to worry about.
I reached for my dream journal, ready to write down more vague details, but my bedside table was empty.Fuck. I had a sinking feeling I’d left it inside my work bag, which was…at work. Great.
I flipped on the light to double check I wasn’t missing anything. Red fingerprints glared on the table, and my eyes fell to my hands. Dripping with blood.
Sticky, warm, sinful blood.
Now, I screamed.
I tumbled out of bed, racing to the bathroom with its blinding light. I held my hands up to the fluorescent glow and blinked. I blinked again, pulling my palms close to my face.
I could’ve sworn…No, fuck that. I knew what I saw. They were covered in blood, dripping with the warmth of someone else, just like in my dream.
It was there. I would’ve been willing to bet money on it.
I turned to my sink, needing to wash off the desperation and anxiety making my hands tremble as I examined them. Blood or no blood, they felt tainted, and I needed to scrape them clean if I ever hoped to sleep again.
Sleep, I scoffed. What was that even? Nothing I deserved, that was for sure.
Snatching my towel off its hook, I dried my hands, mopping up the stray water droplets that now rimmed my countertop while I focused on coaxing my blood pressure back to a non-emergent level.
A spot was refusing to come off my sink, and I furiously scrubbed at it, thankful to have something to funnel my energy into. It was useless; whatever it was had stained the pale porcelain. The small spot was funny, it almost looked like…blood.
No. Nope. I had already been down that road once tonight. I didn’t need my paranoia sneaking up on me a second time.
A rusty red spot on my sink didn’t immediately mean blood. It could’ve been my makeup. A smear of lipstick I hadn’t noticed until it was too late.
Not like you to be sloppy, Blaire.
I smashed my hand to my forehead, wanting my voice of reason to be quiet for two minutes of my life. I couldn’t listen to myself think anymore. I threw open the mirrored cabinet, ignoring my fragile reflection, and popped the small orange bottle with the sleeping pills. I didn’t even bother with a glass, slurping down the tiny blue tablet with water right from the tap.
Fuck the germs. If I was really losing it, I might as well go all the way to Hell. First stop, drinking tap water. Next stop? Murder.
I slammed the cabinet with more force than necessary, and stomped off to bed, where there were no fingerprints on the table. I didn’t bother turning off the bathroom light, the glow leaving my room half-illuminated. The memory of the way I smiled as I pulled the trigger, and the gunpowder that filled my nose overwhelmed my senses.
Something had to give, or I was going to lose my mind.IfI hadn’t already lost it.
The prescription didn’t work. The alcohol was a waste of time. The vitamins were absolutely useless. Something niggled at the back of my brain, a flash of a tattooed hand passing over a small bag.
You could always…
No.I couldn’t. Not only would I have to speak to him, but I didn’t even know where to begin buying drugs. I certainly couldn’t explain an arrest and a night in jail to Harry.
My hands itched, a reminder of the blood I could’ve sworn was there. They were already dirty, stained from the dream I couldn’t leave behind.
Buying drugs couldn’t make them any filthier.
Chapter
