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Ыоуве Been Warned :: Patterson James
Страница: 58 из 138Who would lock it?
Changing my grip on the knob, I really put some muscle into it. I yank so hard my shoulders ache.
Slowly, the door begins to give – until it flies open.
I look inside.
Oh, no! Oh, God! Help me!
And then I’m screaming at the top of my lungs.
Chapter 45
“KRISTIN, WAKE UP. Wake up!”
My eyes snap open, and I gaze around, confused and out of sorts. Not to mention petrified. Everything is soft focus. “Where am I?”
“You’re in my apartment,” says Connie. “On the planet Earth.” She looks concerned, scared, even.
“Are you okay?” I ask her.
“Am I okay?” Connie shakes her head in disbelief. “My God, the way you were screaming, I thought somebody was trying to kill you in here!”
I can see sunlight slicing through the blinds. It’s morning, and I’m lying on the pullout couch in Connie’s living room on the Upper East Side, that much I’ve got figured out. Everything else is sketchy at best.
“I… don’t… remember…”
“You came here last night, hysterical, ” explains Connie. “You were going on and on about this dream and some pictures you’d taken – oh, and you were telling me about your closet. The one in the front hallway? Is any of this ringing a bell?”
“The cockroaches…”
“Yeah, you said there were a million of them. It was horrifying just to listen to you describe it.”
That’s the last thing I remember. The entire closet was crawling with cockroaches. Maybe not a million, but a thousand, and I’m deathly afraid of cockroaches. They got in my hair, on my face. The rest is a blank.
Connie takes my hand. “You were quite the mess, sweetie,” she says. “I gave you two Xanax and put you to bed. You slept straight through the night, not a peep.”
Until now.
The hotel, the four gurneys, the hand. The same dream, only I had it in a different location. It travels.
“What can I get you, Kristin? How do you feel?” Connie asks.
Like shit.
With a sound track to boot. Will I ever figure out what this song in my head is? I wish Connie could hear it; maybe she’d know what it is.
But she can’t. So I don’t mention it, or anything else. If I don’t understand what’s happening to me, how could she? Plus, I don’t want to frighten her any more than I have already.
I’m fine, I tell her. “In fact, what time is it?” I ask – panicked. “I can’t be late for work.
Changing my grip on the knob, I really put some muscle into it. I yank so hard my shoulders ache.
Slowly, the door begins to give – until it flies open.
I look inside.
Oh, no! Oh, God! Help me!
And then I’m screaming at the top of my lungs.
Chapter 45
“KRISTIN, WAKE UP. Wake up!”
My eyes snap open, and I gaze around, confused and out of sorts. Not to mention petrified. Everything is soft focus. “Where am I?”
“You’re in my apartment,” says Connie. “On the planet Earth.” She looks concerned, scared, even.
“Are you okay?” I ask her.
“Am I okay?” Connie shakes her head in disbelief. “My God, the way you were screaming, I thought somebody was trying to kill you in here!”
I can see sunlight slicing through the blinds. It’s morning, and I’m lying on the pullout couch in Connie’s living room on the Upper East Side, that much I’ve got figured out. Everything else is sketchy at best.
“I… don’t… remember…”
“You came here last night, hysterical, ” explains Connie. “You were going on and on about this dream and some pictures you’d taken – oh, and you were telling me about your closet. The one in the front hallway? Is any of this ringing a bell?”
“The cockroaches…”
“Yeah, you said there were a million of them. It was horrifying just to listen to you describe it.”
That’s the last thing I remember. The entire closet was crawling with cockroaches. Maybe not a million, but a thousand, and I’m deathly afraid of cockroaches. They got in my hair, on my face. The rest is a blank.
Connie takes my hand. “You were quite the mess, sweetie,” she says. “I gave you two Xanax and put you to bed. You slept straight through the night, not a peep.”
Until now.
The hotel, the four gurneys, the hand. The same dream, only I had it in a different location. It travels.
“What can I get you, Kristin? How do you feel?” Connie asks.
Like shit.
With a sound track to boot. Will I ever figure out what this song in my head is? I wish Connie could hear it; maybe she’d know what it is.
But she can’t. So I don’t mention it, or anything else. If I don’t understand what’s happening to me, how could she? Plus, I don’t want to frighten her any more than I have already.
I’m fine, I tell her. “In fact, what time is it?” I ask – panicked. “I can’t be late for work.