Page 70 of Crank (Crank 1)

Twenty hours,

as it turned

out. I tried to

open my eyes.

Please, Bree?

Adam’s tone

forced me into

the moment.

“Hang on.”

Something happened.

My mouth tasted

like dead speed,

dying beer, and

foreboding.

There was an accident

Coming

Jumped up, dashed

for mouthwash,

forgetting the

uncertainty

of legs, unused for

twenty hours, but

spurred to confront the

fear

in his voice, and

something more,

something too like

guilt.

Oh God, who was in

the mirror? Not Bree,

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