sat in the living room, glancing at the wall clock while he sipped his red wine, and wishing the clock hands would get some oomph and just hurry the hell up.
Now that Trevor had been murdered by the troll boy (a little uncertainty he had been teaching his mind to just accept as true—but then, who gave a damn who killed whom?), the world was his oyster. He didn’t realize how much of an impediment Trevor had been until his death. Amazing how luck had worked in his favor and made his two enemies collide, how it had used one to take care of the other. And the one that remained would soon follow, too. In spite of Brian’s indifference to the case, Donnie would see his wish come true. He would do everything to send the little disgusting devil to where Trevor had gone.
Right now, he thought about Jennifer Foster. When Trevor had been alive, he’d stood between them.
Not anymore.
He sipped.
And waited.
Until he could endure the wait no longer.
By 10:04 P.M., he decided enough was enough. He would set out. Better to be at Jennifer’s place too early than to run behind schedule. He just couldn’t wait to see her.
But he was extremely excited, so much that he returned inside the apartment from his driveway three times to pick up what he had forgotten to take along with him each previous time. Excitement was no doubt getting in the way of his full sensory functionality. His memory had been drugged by the prospect of the date.
He came back the third time because he had left behind a piece of gold-plated wristwatch—a gift for Jennifer. He got it quickly, raced across the foyer, flipping the lights off as he went along, opened the front door, dashed through the doorway, neck jutting out. He felt the pain before he could comprehend the presence of the fist that struck out at his face. Even though he was more than sixty percent through the doorway, the effect of the blow knocked him backwards all the way into the lightless foyer. Airborne, he crashed against the crook of the walls, the crown of his head hitting the concrete first, and then crashed his nose into one of the walls as his head rebounded.
“ Oh, fuck,” Donnie cried out. He tried to sit up as soon as he landed, but failed. On a second attempt, he managed to get it right. Having propped himself up on his elbows, considerably disoriented, he struggled to focus on the figure that stood just beyond the doorway, under the flood of the security lights outside the apartment. At first, he thought his vision had been warped as a result of the monstrous stinger he had received. But then, he realized the image before him was as real as the pain coursing back and forth his head. A man, extremely tall and muscular, holding a scythe and flashing a chimpanzee’s face in lieu of a man’s. Well, he couldn’t be a man, then. Not a snowball’s chance in hell. He must be some sort of monster from the deepest part of Hades.
Donnie screamed, screamed and scrambled to his feet faster than he’d thought he could. All of a sudden, the pains in his head and back were forgotten, his disorientation vanished, his survival instinct heightened.
He slammed the door connecting the foyer to the living room shut, still screaming as he proceeded.
When he got a sufficient grip on himself at the landing, he dug his hand in his pants pocket, searching for his cell phone even as he raced up the stairs.
But ...
Alas! The cell phone wasn’t there.
Oh, yeah, he thought, un-cool shit has just started to hit the fan pretty quickly.
He had left his cell phone in the car when he had been doing his aimless back-and-forth journey from his driveway to his apartment. How could he have allowed his stupid emotions to ruin him tonight?
The monster of a man hadn’t broken through the door yet, which surprised Donnie, even though he loved it. He loved the way that part of the show was playing out more than he’d lusted after Jennifer Foster for years.
Donnie was racing upstairs, running to his
Now that Trevor had been murdered by the troll boy (a little uncertainty he had been teaching his mind to just accept as true—but then, who gave a damn who killed whom?), the world was his oyster. He didn’t realize how much of an impediment Trevor had been until his death. Amazing how luck had worked in his favor and made his two enemies collide, how it had used one to take care of the other. And the one that remained would soon follow, too. In spite of Brian’s indifference to the case, Donnie would see his wish come true. He would do everything to send the little disgusting devil to where Trevor had gone.
Right now, he thought about Jennifer Foster. When Trevor had been alive, he’d stood between them.
Not anymore.
He sipped.
And waited.
Until he could endure the wait no longer.
By 10:04 P.M., he decided enough was enough. He would set out. Better to be at Jennifer’s place too early than to run behind schedule. He just couldn’t wait to see her.
But he was extremely excited, so much that he returned inside the apartment from his driveway three times to pick up what he had forgotten to take along with him each previous time. Excitement was no doubt getting in the way of his full sensory functionality. His memory had been drugged by the prospect of the date.
He came back the third time because he had left behind a piece of gold-plated wristwatch—a gift for Jennifer. He got it quickly, raced across the foyer, flipping the lights off as he went along, opened the front door, dashed through the doorway, neck jutting out. He felt the pain before he could comprehend the presence of the fist that struck out at his face. Even though he was more than sixty percent through the doorway, the effect of the blow knocked him backwards all the way into the lightless foyer. Airborne, he crashed against the crook of the walls, the crown of his head hitting the concrete first, and then crashed his nose into one of the walls as his head rebounded.
“ Oh, fuck,” Donnie cried out. He tried to sit up as soon as he landed, but failed. On a second attempt, he managed to get it right. Having propped himself up on his elbows, considerably disoriented, he struggled to focus on the figure that stood just beyond the doorway, under the flood of the security lights outside the apartment. At first, he thought his vision had been warped as a result of the monstrous stinger he had received. But then, he realized the image before him was as real as the pain coursing back and forth his head. A man, extremely tall and muscular, holding a scythe and flashing a chimpanzee’s face in lieu of a man’s. Well, he couldn’t be a man, then. Not a snowball’s chance in hell. He must be some sort of monster from the deepest part of Hades.
Donnie screamed, screamed and scrambled to his feet faster than he’d thought he could. All of a sudden, the pains in his head and back were forgotten, his disorientation vanished, his survival instinct heightened.
He slammed the door connecting the foyer to the living room shut, still screaming as he proceeded.
When he got a sufficient grip on himself at the landing, he dug his hand in his pants pocket, searching for his cell phone even as he raced up the stairs.
But ...
Alas! The cell phone wasn’t there.
Oh, yeah, he thought, un-cool shit has just started to hit the fan pretty quickly.
He had left his cell phone in the car when he had been doing his aimless back-and-forth journey from his driveway to his apartment. How could he have allowed his stupid emotions to ruin him tonight?
The monster of a man hadn’t broken through the door yet, which surprised Donnie, even though he loved it. He loved the way that part of the show was playing out more than he’d lusted after Jennifer Foster for years.
Donnie was racing upstairs, running to his
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