Can You Handle This?

Here is another excerpt - but I promise you, it is benign :)

The Point - Chapter 2 Excerpt

Waking was much like dreaming, she felt like she was peering into some tale she'd never read. She glanced around the room only rolling her eyes in their sockets so not to disturb the sheets lying across her body. Lace curtains were drawn on her right allowing modest beams of sunlight to pierce the room. The walls were papered but she couldn't make out the faded pattern. A picture of a little girl in a yellow dress holding an ice cream cone hung on the wall in front of her. To the left was the antique nightstand she'd seen earlier, but now a pitcher of water and a fresh clear glass sat next to it. Mr. Wilkes had been kind enough to leave a bowl with fruit and muffins as well, but she didn't want to eat. She wanted to sleep - and not dream. That could be her only escape. Too bad there weren't any sleeping pills to go along with the water. She closed her eyes again and fought hard to rest.

He clung to this bit of rest despite the horrors freely taking over his dreams. He found himself walking down a dark wet street with his head down and raindrops making pitter patter sounds as they landed against his raincoat. He was happy it was dark out. He never felt comfortable in the light of day. It was crowded, but people just brushed past him without giving him a thought. Everyone had an errand to run, and as the seconds ticked by he felt a need to accomplish something himself. He felt an urge to find a mirror. He picked up his pace, he recognized the streets now. He turned left on Pelham Parkway and headed for home. As he walked up the steps, his need to see himself grew exponentially. He raced up to his room, threw open the door and stepped behind it to view the full length mirror on its back. What he saw was a teenage girl with large breasts and bright red lips in a revealing black nighty. He was her and she was smiling. As he touched his lips to trace his smile he drifted into another dream seamlessly.

His next dream was less inviting. A steady rhythm beat in his head, he couldn’t tell if it was his heartbeat or the sound of a distant drum. There was nothing to see, no images - only blackness. He felt as though he should be floating in this visual vacuum, but instead he was weighted down to an almost unbearable point. Then, the drum stopped and he felt a slow steady drain on his life-force. Before he blinked out of existence a soft gentle voice - his voice - spoke to him, "Why won't you love me?" - Then again, his own murderous screech, "Why won't you love me!" This dream he would never remember.

She let her life-force dim, it was the only way she would ever be able to rest. She felt a soft breeze pass over her and she let it take her adrift into a soothing state of unconsciousness. She was with Dan. She was in his arms being held close.

Dan had always been her savior, from the time she met him she knew he would always keep her safe. Here, in her dream, they were in his well adorned house cuddling on the leather love seat he had custom made in Italy. She buried her head in his chest and breathed deeply of his cologne. It made her feel at peace. They shared many moments of silent lucidity, but this was the most perfect moment of them all. Her hands held him tight as she felt his heartbeat against her cheek. His arms cradled her securely, and every so often reached up to adjust his glasses.

Perhaps it was the fact that he was a psychiatrist, but she knew in her very core that she could trust him with her darkest secrets although her intellect would never allow her to. Still, just knowing that she had that comfort level with him, and that at any moment she could offer him up the most delectable parts of her psyche - it felt good. She looked into his deep brown eyes and stroked his black hair, "Thank you." All was well with the world.

It had been a while since she had need of this dream technique. She developed it fighting off the nightmares her father gave her, and it worked well for short periods of time. Waking would be torment, "Do you feel well enough to have a sip?" Carl Wilkes was standing over her with a tall glass of lemonade.

     "Yes. . . .please." She adjusted so that she could sit up and drink. "Thanks again for having me. . .have you. . . have you heard anything?"

     "No, but I suspect they won't want to tell me much. No one's been taken in, that much I do know. You really should eat something."

     "I can't, not now. . .May I use your phone?"

"You can, but I haven't had long distance for many years now."

     "That's fine, I just wanted to call the station and see if I could get some of my things from the house."

     "Well, if you'd like." Carl made a slightly sour face indicating that he didn't think it was likely that Adrienne would see any of her things for some time.

     Adrienne rose from the bed after finishing the lemonade and left the empty glass on the nightstand. She followed Carl downstairs and sat in the arm chair beside the telephone, "Do you know the number?"

     "Just press the star button and 1."

"Hello?"

     "Alemedies police."

     "Yes, I was there. . . I'm the one who. . .I. . ."

"Ms. Tell?"

     "Yes. I was wondering if I would be able to get my things from the house."

     "Technically that's evidence, but I'll ask the chief - he's due in in about 30 minutes."

     "Thank you, I would really like to get into my own clothes and make calls from my cell phone. Would you be able to tell me if you called their families?"

     "We have miss. They should be here come nightfall."

"Please let me know when they arrive. I know, they will want to speak with me. Thank you again."

     "You're welcome miss."

"If you need, I'd be more than happy to take you to town or over to the mall in Altonborough. Might be better that way, who knows how long it'll take Sam to get around to clearing anything you might like to get a hold of."

     "That's probably a good idea, but I really need some contact numbers from my cell phone. Oh well, better to go and have some clothes, at least. Do you think we'd have enough time to get there and be back before nightfall?"

     "Depends on how fast you shop - but if you stick to the bare necessities, we should."

     They headed out in Carl's old Ford truck up the main road to the ferry.

     Fred looked at the approaching truck, offered a wave of acknowledgement and lowered the boarding platform. As the truck pulled in he saw Adrienne and felt a pang of awkwardness in his gut.

     "Sorry to hear. . ," Fred's eyes meandered down to the ferry's deck as Carl drove aboard.

     As usual, the rest of the ferry ride was silence. Fred never really was one for small talk, or any talk for that matter.

     The ferry made a lackadaisical approach to mainland and eased through the bay weighted down with the heat of the day. Adrienne wondered about what she would say to her best friend’s parents.

They were sure to be devastated, like Adrienne, Lynn was an only child. What could she say to comfort them? She wanted to share her grief with them, but what would she tell them? What would she tell them about what she saw, what really happened? She decided that she wouldn't tell them much, the gruesome details were sure to be revealed in the autopsy report. Would they hate her? Would they think she should have stopped him? Would they wish it was her instead? She thought the answer would undoubtedly be yes to all of the questions swimming in her head.

Tall, thick evergreens lined many of the roads they traversed until they reached the outer edges of Altonborough. Then, homes alongside the road were more apparent and the world seemed less lonely. Carl wondered about things to come, the nightmares in store for this woman, the way the town would mourn the losses, where a murderer like that came from to strike in a place like this, and mostly - was it over? He prayed so, but things like this rarely ever came to an end, he knew a thin stream of filth would always filter through for everyone and everything touched by this tragedy, slightly coloring everything a washed out muted shade of grey. Alemedies had been tainted.

Tomorrow, Give Me The Sun And The Moon. . .