Stain [H.S] - Major Editing

35

When Greg was fixing breakfast, I sat down on the couch. Then, when my head started nodding, I thought how nice it would be just to lie down for a minute or two. After that I don't remember much. I remember smelling bacon. I remember Greg and Harry talking. I remember opening my eyes when somebody picked me up and carried me to my bed. I remember hearing Niall say something about going home to get cleaned up, then coming back. And mostly I remember how tired I was and how good it felt to keep my eyes closed and how clean and crisp and soft the sheets felt.

That's about all I remember.

I don't know what woke me. I yawned and stretched, blinking the sleep out of my eyes. I looked around. A loud crack of thunder shook the windows. I sat straight up. It was light outside, but it was dark too. I swung my feet over the side of the bed and rubbed my fingers through my hair. The thunder cracked again.

Better check this out, I thought.

I staggered to the window and pulled back the curtains. Outside, the rain was pouring down. It was so thick; I could barely see the road below the hill. The mighty oak tree swayed, its limbs twisting this way and that way with the roar of the fierce wind. Some of the smaller trees seemed to lie over on their sides.

I closed the window. Then I headed for the kitchen downstairs.

"Harry?" I called.

No answer.

"Greg? Niall?"

Still nothing.

The kitchen was empty. But the common room wasn't. Gangsters wearing lounge suits and fedora hats settled themselves in the couches. Wiseguys were everywhere. Buff guy was drinking a glass of I-do-not-want-to-know by the easy chair, two other guys babbled on about some drug heist in Los Angeles, an old, scary dude read the newspaper, and a couple more were huddled around the coffee table, playing cards.

I didn't want to attract any attention. Those guys looked really dangerous. So I headed back to the kitchen as quietly as possible.

The rain pounded the roof, but above the sound I could hear my bare feet plopping across the marble floor. The clock on top of the refrigerator said 12:40. I shook my head.

"Can't believe I slept so late. It's past noon."

I turned around and saw a note taped to the fridge. I yawned and rubbed my eyes again so I could read it:

Alice,

Greg and I went to see someone. You were sleeping so soundly, I didn't have the heart to wake you. Don't worry about us. We'll be alright. Breakfast is in the oven. If we're not back by 2 and you need anything, ask for Jeff. He's there. He's read this note.

-Harry

"Jeff's back?" I asked myself, wondering deeply.

Walking absentmindedly toward the oven, I got the food out and started eating. I glanced out the window and saw the rain pouring down. There was a loud clap of thunder. Right as it cracked, there was a quick but very shrill squeak behind me. I turned my head and saw Jeff standing in the doorway, unshaven, wearing a shabby dressing gown and fluffy slippers. He looked...different.

"It's pretty bad out there," he said, slightly shaken.

I glanced at the window. "Lots of rain and some wind."

He walked into the kitchen and made himself some coffee. "How're you, Alice? Everything good?"

"Pain's sort of bearable. How about you? How was New York?"