Chapter Eight

Saturday 11:30am

Richie whimpered in his sleep.

He looked around himself; the hallway was dark, with something sticky underfoot and there was a faint light up ahead that seemed to be getting closer and closer. He tried to walk but his feet were stuck to the floor and he couldn't move. He tried to twist around to see what was behind him but there seemed to be some force behind him preventing him from doing so. The light was getting closer and closer and bringing with it a sickly, cloyingly sweet smell that seemed to clog his nostrils. He watched in mounting terror as she appeared in front of him, the sharp light illuminating only her face and shoulders. She seemed to be hunched over as if in pain.

"You did this. It's all your fault. You should have loved me but you killed me." she said, as the light widened and he watched horrified as her intestines spilled out, glistening, wet and floppy. The cloying smell invaded his mind and nose and he started gagging as her heart slowly fell out of the bloody carcass and flopped onto the floor, writhing, slippery with blood but still beating, the blood flowing towards him, never stopping, rising up his legs, soaking his jeans. He tried desperately to move but nothing. The sweet sticky blood was soaking into the hem of his shirt, rising upwards. He watched, horror stricken, eyes wide as the relentless tide of red rose higher and higher. It was on his collar and then onto the skin of his neck, still moving upwards.

He screamed and screamed and screamed as the sticky liquid engulfed his mouth and nose, choking him, cutting off his air supply. Desperately he thrashed around against his invisible bonds, trying to spit out the foul blood but to no avail. Dimly the light started to fade as he sank down to the ground.

"Hey hey, Richie man, wake up! wake up bro. It's just a dream. Just a nightmare, you're ok."

Richie woke up and launched himself into Jon's arms, sobbing, sweat pouring off him, plastering his hair to his head.

"Oh god man, she's dead and it was all my fault. She was right, I should have loved her but I couldn't and now she's dead and it was all me."

Jon hugged his best friend, feeling the older man's tears soak into his tee shirt.

"Hey calm down, shhh, there it's ok. it was just a nightmare. It's not real. shhh." Jon soothed him, stroking his back as Richie began to calm down.

"Hush little baby don't say a word, Mama's gonna buy you a mocking bird." Jon softly crooned as he held Richie close to him, rocking him almost.

"I hate that fucking song" came a muffled voice.

Jon got the giggles as the absurdity of the situation hit him. He pulled away from Richie to see a small wan smile on the face of his best friend. Tears still rolled down his face but he was smiling.

Jon's giggles got worse and soon he was howling with laughter, holding his stomach and he rolled on the bed, getting breathless as he tried to take breath only to start laughing again.

He looked at Richie who sat there with his hair plastered to his head, covered in sweat and tears and howled with laughter.

Finally he pulled himself up from his prone position and tried to sober up.

"Well that makes a fucking change. i'm the miserable one and you're the fucking laughing boy." Richie huffed as he tried not to grin.

Jon quickly sobered up and looked at Richie.

"How are you doing?..sorry stupid fucking question."

"S'ok man, what time is it? How long have i been asleep?" Richie asked, rubbing his face, trying to clear his fogged head.

"little after 12 noon. Larry called and i was on my way to wake you when i heard.." Jon shrugged.

"Shit, you know, last night? doesn't feel real man. Feels like i'm stuck in some fucking nightmare. If i could go back to last night i'd slam the fucking door in her face and go to bed. Why the fuck did i let her in?" he wondered.

"Why did you? If she was my ex i'd have run, about 100 K thatta way!" Jon joked, "But seriously why did you?"

Richie just shrugged, looking everywhere but at Jon.