Two more hours slowly ticked by, and he finally managed to doze off. His dreams were filled with flashes of Nicky, lying in the bathtub, bathing herself, humming a generic tune. He saw visions of Carl Jones, standing in Richard’s living room, with the baseball bat firmly in his grasp and his eyes still filled with blind rage. Then Christina Long was sitting at the foot of his staircase, sobbing uncontrollably into her palms. He slowly walked up to her. Reaching her, he held out his hand. Still crying, not looking at him, she took his hand. Her hand was soaked in blood, saturating his in the process. Pulling away from her gentle grip, he saw blood pooling around his shoes. He followed the stream of blood with his eyes, only to find it was coming from beneath her white dress. “What do you want me to do?” he heard himself say.
Slowly peering up at him, her eyes blackened with running mascara, she softly said, “Help me find him.”
“I’ve tried,” Richard replied. “He won’t listen.”
And then she abruptly stood, causing Richard to jump back in fright. “Help me find him!” she screamed.
Richard awoke suddenly. Sweat was running down his face, aggravating his eyes. He rubbed his face and sighed loudly. “Jesus Christ,” he whispered to himself.
Sitting up in bed, trying to shake off the nightmare, he contemplated putting on the light. But he glanced at Nicky beside him and remembered how cross she was with him, and decided against it. He considered going downstairs to watch TV, hoping that the light and the sound of the TV would help. But the idea of sitting alone in the living room, knowing that she was somewhere in the house, sent a cold chill through his body.
Instead, Richard lay in bed, staring up at the ceiling, waiting until the sounds of birds tweeting filled the bedroom. Only then would he feel safe.
Or at least safer.
Chapter 12
Day 12: Saturday
The rain hammered against the window as Richard listened to Nicky’s alarm clock wail. He hadn’t slept a wink all night, apart from slipping into the occasional deep trance. His eyes ached and so did his head.
Watching Nicky climb out of bed, he croakily asked, “Are we all right?”
She turned to him, startled that he should be awake so early. “God. You frightened me, then.”
He cleared his throat. “Sorry.”
She sat on the edge of the bed, staring deep into his eyes, smiling. “We’re fine,” she reassured him. “Look, I’m sorry about yesterday—I was worried about you, that’s all. I didn’t mean to go in a mood with you. But when you mentioned the baseball bat…”
He smiled tightly as he moved his hand, placing it over hers. “I’m sorry too. I didn’t want to scare you. I just wanted you to know the truth.”
“I’m glad you told me. And I’m glad you didn’t hurt yourself. But you have to be more careful.”
He nodded. “I know. It was stupid to go there. I know that now. I just—”
“Look, let’s just forget about it and move on, otherwise we’ll be arguing again. And I can’t be bothered.”
“Okay. Sorry.”
Beaming, she leaned over and kissed his lips. “I love you, you idiot,” she said, as she moved her mouth away.
“I love you too.” He returned a smile.
Moving off the bed she reached for her jeans, which were folded neatly on the corner chair. “Did my alarm wake you?” she asked, slipping into the tight-fitting jeans.
He sat up in bed. “No. I was already awake. Didn’t sleep all that well last night. Kept having nightmares.”
She gave him a concerned, motherly look. “Oh, that’s not good, babe. Well, I’ll be back in a few hours. Got to go to work and sort a few things out. Maybe you should try to get some sleep while I’m gone. And then we can do something together this afternoon. What do you think?”
Nodding, he yawned loudly, stretching his arms up high. “Sounds good. What time will you be home?”
“About eleven—maybe twelve at the latest,” she said, buttoning up her shirt. She then leaned in again. “Right, I’m off.” She kissed him.
“All right, I’ll see you later then.” She started for the door. “Love you.”
“Love you, too. Bye.”
Exiting the room, she closed the door.