I was exhausted. Felt like I could use about 20 hours of rest and that someone had beat the crap out of me with a tree trunk. I guess they kind of had. Part of me wanted to go take a shower and another big part of me wanted to just lie down and put my head under the covers and collapse. But I had to clean the cuts on my face if nothing else. See how bad they were.
I went into the bathroom and locked the door, staring into the mirror. The fluorescents put my face in stark relief. I looked awful. My eyes were sunken back into my head and my skin was waxy and pale, covered in a cold sheen of sweat. The scratches on my face from where Tamara had reacted and pushed me away actually weren’t too bad, though. Very shallow, superficial cuts. I wet a wash cloth and picked at them, trying to scrub some of the night away. I’m not sure that it worked but by the time I was done my face had at least regained some of its color. The night was still there in my eyes, though. I wasn’t sure if I could ever get that haunted look out of them.
The cuts didn’t look like they’d bled that much and washing them hadn’t opened them back up thankfully. They were faint trails going down my cheek. Unless sleeping on them made them come back out I thought I was okay on that front at least. I looked down at my pants and brushed my hand over my thigh. The pain wasn’t as sharp or as deep as it had been, but my thigh was definitely swollen. I briefly considered taking my pants off and having a look at it but after a quick internal debate I said screw it and decided to leave it for the morning.
I looked out the bathroom window as I stood over the toilet and did my business. Something didn’t feel right, but I couldn’t quite put my finger on it. Not in an “I just killed a guy who raped the girl I was in love with” kind of way – that certainly didn’t feel right, either, but it was something I could work with – things just felt wrong somehow.
Whatever it was, it could last until morning. I was beat. I kicked my shoes to the side and took my shirt off as I limped my way back to my bed and threw the shirt in the general direction of the hamper. It missed, but then there were more clothes on the floor in front of the hamper than there was inside it anyway. I lay on my back on the bed and pulled the covers up to my chin. After a few seconds of that I rolled over onto my side, facing the window. Next thing I knew, I was asleep.
A gripping fear woke me sometime later. My heart was beating wildly and I could feel my pulse throbbing everywhere in my body. It felt like the whole world was shaking and I could hear a rumbling in the air. A peal of thunder broke the air like a gunshot and the flash of lightning seared the backs of my eyeballs. Sweat broke out over my body and chills swept up and down my spine. It felt like I was drowning.
I swam my way out from under the covers as another crash of thunder sounded right on top of the trailer. At some point in my sleep I’d curled into a tiny ball at the bottom of my bed and wrapped myself in the blanket. It felt like I was suffocating and when I finally managed to break my head out into the air I breathed in hard like a marathon runner at the end of the race.
I just lay there for a few moments trying to catch my breath until another peal of thunder surprised a cry from my lips. There was not a single light on in the house and none was shining through the window. Looked like the power was out. A pretty common occurrence here at the Acres in the middle of backwoods Kentucky.
My heart was in my throat and I was doing my best to calm down and get my body back under control. I’d had dreams of being trapped in the dark and chased by some faceless enemy. Constant running and hiding and never quite managing to get away. It wasn’t hard to figure out what had caused that dream.
Thunder rattled the windowpanes three more times. Each one made me jump like I’d been shot. The night was quiet after the last one so I wondered if that was going to be it for the storm. It didn’t even look like it’d rained yet judging by the dryness of the window and sometimes God just let the sky knock at our doors a few times and then leave without the rain actually coming.
“What was that?” I muttered to myself.
I’d been looking at the window to see if it was wet and I could swear I’d seen a shadow flit by. It had paused and then moved on again. It wasn’t distinct enough to see what might be causing it, but something had definitely gone by my window. That wasn’t odd in and of itself since my window did face out onto the rest of the Acres, but no one should be that close.
I tried to rise out of bed but when I put my weight on my leg a sharp burst of pain radiated from my thigh and went straight to my mouth. I fought to hold back the scream and all that came out was a grunt. Tears rolled down my cheeks from holding in the hurt. Damn, I should have taken off my pants. The jeans around my thigh were swollen enough to fill in every crease. My thigh had swelled to at least twice its normal size.
I gingerly put that leg back down on the floor and tried to put weight on it. It hurt less now that I was geared up for the pain but it still hurt worse than it had when I went to bed. However many hours ago that was. Bracing myself for the pain and leaning on my wall with one hand I put my weight on both my legs and rolled to a standing position. I stood like that for a good 30 seconds or so and let the pain roll through me. I could do this. I could deal. Mind over matter.
The first step I took toward the window brought a hiss of pain to my lips. I was able to bite it back on the second step and by the third I was able to take my hand off the wall as I stumbled to the window. I uttered a small cry of victory as I reached the window, sparing a quick glance for Barrett splayed out a couple feet from me. He was sleeping heavier than the dead. Nothing was going to wake him up.
I moved the curtain and held it aside with one hand. It definitely hadn’t rained yet although I could see the lightning flickering off and on in the distance. Maybe we’d lucked out this time and missed the rain. Driving and walking through the gravel in the Acres was a pain at any time, let alone if it was wet with rain.
The Acres was completely and utterly dark. No street lights or gas lamps came from any of the trailers. I glanced at my watch: 3:00am. The witching hour. It was doubtful anyone was still up and most people would have just rolled over once they saw the lights were off. Nothing that needed to be dealt with this late at night.
I’d slept for a little over two hours and even though I’d been heavy with exhaustion when I lay down I was now completely awake. My heart still thudded a little bit in my chest. I couldn’t shake the feeling of the dreams and the wrongness that had pervaded it. Even though I could see nothing looking out my window it still seemed like things were a little off.
I’m sure it was just the nerves of what had occurred barely three hours ago, but still. I felt wired.
From my window I could see the back end of Barrett’s car and I could tell that something didn’t look right but I couldn’t figure out what it was. It seemed off, too. I knew his dad would kill him if something happened to that car and since I was wide awake anyway I figured I might as well go outside and check it out. He didn’t deserve to get in trouble over me. I’d shield him and Fannie Mae from everything that happened as much as I could.
There’s no way the cops wouldn’t zero in immediately on the trailer park and Tamara; and I had no faith that she’d be able to not say anything. I didn’t blame her at all, of course. She’d do whatever she needed to protect herself. There was a small chance that the cops would believe he’d raped her and she’d fought him off and knocked him into the monument and killed him. If they did that’d be the end of it, but there really wasn’t much chance of that happening. I’d watched enough CSI and Law and Order.