Surge by Paul DiPersio

Author:Paul DiPersio [DiPersio, Paul]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Paul DiPersio
Published: 2019-03-20T22:00:00+00:00

19

When Michael awoke in bed a few hours later, the sun was up and the sky outside the window was filled with murky, ragged clouds. Beneath the window, Amanda lay naked on the floor on her side, her tousled black hair covering her face.

Dina was curled up against her bottom, sleeping peacefully.

He lay in bed and watched Amanda for a while.

She was lying so still, with her right arm flopped awkwardly behind her back … just like he found her after the lightning strike.

He was starting to get nervous, about to jump out of bed and rush over to her, when she coughed and shifted her legs.

Dina lifted her furry little head, cracked her sleepy eyelid and perked her ears for a moment, then nuzzled back down against Amanda’s naked bottom and went back to sleep.

He glanced at the Klonopin bottle on the bedside table. It was toppled over, half the pills spilled out.

Crawling across the bed, he grabbed the bottle, dumped the rest of the pills onto the bedside table, then carefully counted them all back into the bottle.

There were twenty-four pills left. After he came back to bed and passed out beside her, which would have been around three or four a.m., she must have gotten up and taken two more pills as he’d suggested.

She wasn’t waking up anytime soon.

She’d gone through the Percocet like it was candy. He decided it was a good idea to take the Klonopin bottle away, to prevent her from building up too much tolerance or accidentally overdosing.

He went over, gently lifted her naked body off the floor, carried her back to the bed, laid her down, and covered her with the quilt. Brushing the hair from her face, he kissed her forehead. Her skin was clammy. Her eyeballs roamed aimlessly beneath her eyelids. She was restless, breathing fast, grinding her teeth.

He pulled the quilt up to her chin, then went over to his dresser to rummage around for a clean sweatshirt and a pair of jeans.

He hid the Klonopin bottle in the bottom of his sock drawer.

Before heading downstairs for coffee, he went back over to give Amanda another quick kiss on her forehead. While he was there, he lifted her eyelids to make sure her pupils were equal and reactive to light. When he lifted the right eyelid, she groaned and turned her head away. The eye was bloodshot, irritated.

He sat on the bed beside her, gently stroking her hair.

Doctor Hammond’s office wouldn’t open for a few more hours. He had some time to kill, time to contemplate this runaway train they’d hitched a ride on.

Or had they already gone off the rails and down a ravine in a flaming train wreck?

Yesterday, her bizarre rendezvous with that blond Russian chick in that sleazy bathroom, that was definitely a train wreck. He could still feel the impact in his chest, in his pummeled, aching heart.

You need to get past it.

Up until now, he and Amanda had been blessed with a carefree, storybook romance.

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