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The fluorescent lights are on above me and as I open my eyes I squint, closing my eyes against the assault. When I open them, I see Silas in the tiny rectangular window of my hospital room, looking in.
Somber.
Worried.
Then he picks up his phone.
I know who he’s calling.
And if I could speak to him, I’d ask Drew one question. One.
What was he about to say?
Chapter 13
Drew
I’m alone in a chair, with thousands of similar chairs surrounding me, the cavernous space filled with a fine mist that tastes like oranges and pixie dust dancing on my teeth. I’m naked, then clothed, a flash of outfits passing over my body like an old-fashioned Rolodex being flipped.
Then I’m walking barefoot on sand, dodging IEDs, running with an American flag streaming behind me.
It is riddled with bullet holes. Each hole in the sacred fabric bleeds.
Suddenly, I’m in bed – my bed – my ceiling a cloud formation, stars twinkling behind the clouds, appearing here and there as a light breeze reveals them. Lindsay’s hair hangs over my face, tickling my nose, and I’m deep inside her.
She smells like warm apple pie and sweet spun sugar, the tangy taste of her juices on my mouth. We kiss with a wet, lush openness that makes me crave her more. Being inside her isn’t enough. Rocking her to ecstasy, her body stretching out as she tips her chin up to the stars, isn’t enough.
I’ll never, ever have enough of her.
For now, though, I’m in heaven.
My hands slide up her long torso, peaches-and-cream skin that stretches until it’s marred with blood, the long lines of rib turning the color of old rust. Her ribs stand out in stark relief until my fingers strike steel.
I’m touching a xylophone.
She’s turned to metal.
Our eyes meet and she’s a robot, all glitter and automaton. My cock feels like an icicle, and then poof – she’s gone.
And I’m back in the auditorium again, clapping alone.
I look on stage and there she is, her long hair covering her face, dripping over her bare breasts like honey. She opens her mouth and sings the most haunting melody, a siren call that hypnotizes me until I can’t stop clapping, cheering, calling for her to go on and on and on.
My phone buzzes.
I pick it up and whisper, “She’s back. Lindsay is back.”
* * *
I wake up to the buzzing of my phone. Someone is calling me. This isn’t a text. I shake off the dream and answer.
“Foster,” I bark into my personal phone, then grimace. What if it’s my sister, or Monica, or --
“She’s talking.”
It’s Silas.
“She’s what?” The smell of disinfectant assaults my senses, making it hard to listen. My apartment was scrubbed clean by professionals after being cleared as a crime scene by police. The blood stains are gone, but the room feels damp and haunted. Silas and Mark offered to let me stay with them, but I’m determined not to let the past get to me.
