Total pages in book: 99
Estimated words: 109903 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 550(@200wpm)___ 440(@250wpm)___ 366(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 109903 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 550(@200wpm)___ 440(@250wpm)___ 366(@300wpm)
When it had enough juice to turn on, it immediately started loading every missed message from his vacation. Neil tried thumbing through his contacts, but the alerts kept popping up to interrupt his progress. He gave up and watched names flash by. Unsurprisingly most of the texts were from Nicky. Even Aaron and Allison's names came up. The only name missing was Andrew's.
At last his phone had downloaded everything from the server, and Neil could get into his contacts list. Neil saw Andrew's name first, then Kevin's, and finally hit the third speed dial Andrew programmed into his phone.
Wymack answered on the fourth ring. "You have a good reason to be bothering me on a holiday?"
"I didn't know who else to call," Neil said. He barely recognized his own voice. The last time he'd spoken he'd been screaming; apparently his vocal cords still hadn't recovered. Neil pressed his forehead to the wall and tried to breathe. He couldn't remember when breathing wasn't a chore.
"Neil?" All the gruff posturing left Wymack's voice; that sharp edge was all alarm. "Are you all right?"
Neil smiled. It felt like it tore his face open. "No. No, I'm not. I know it's kind of sudden, but can you come get me? I'm at the airport."
"Wait right there," Wymack said. "I'm on my way."
Neil nodded, knowing Wymack couldn't see it, and hung up. He didn't have the strength to stay standing, so he knelt and set a timer on his phone for fifteen minutes. When it went off, he yanked the charger from the wall and carried his bag outside. He sat on the curb with his feet in the gutter, ignoring the way irate drivers honked warnings at him. Neil was so out of it he didn't realize Wymack had pulled up to the curb a short ways down until a heavy hand wrapped around his arm.
"Up," Wymack said. "We're getting out of here."
Neil twisted his hand in Wymack's sleeve and let Wymack haul him to his feet. Wymack got the passenger door open for him and watched as Neil climbed in. When Neil was safely tucked inside Wymack slammed the door and went around to the driver's side. Neil steeled himself for questions, but Wymack said nothing to him. Neil watched the airport disappear, watched signs blur outside the window, and let his eyes close.
When he opened them again, he was flat on his back on Wymack's couch. Wymack had dragged his desk chair into the living room to keep watch over him. A bottle of scotch sat almost empty on the coffee table between them. The lid was on but Neil could still smell it. Neil pushed himself up, wincing the entire way, and returned Wymack's guarded expression with one of his own.
"I'm sorry."
"He sounds like Neil," Wymack said, "but he doesn't look like him. I'll take your explanation from the top and without a side order of bullshit, thanks."
Neil looked at him, not understanding. The answer was there, just out of reach, a flash of blue and panic and shattered glass. Neil clawed desperately at his memory, but his body caught on before his mind did. He reached up to touch his hair, and Neil remembered. Dread was acid in his veins, eating him alive from the inside out, and Neil lurched to his feet.
"No," he said, but it was too late to change things.
Wymack got up when Neil stumbled for the door, but he didn't try to stop him. Neil threw the bathroom door open and cut the light on. The face waiting for him on the mirror was horrible enough to take his legs out from under him. Neil scrabbled at the sink as he crumpled to his knees but wasn't strong enough to hold himself up.
Neil had dyed his hair brown from time to time, but never this shade, never anywhere near this shade. This was his natural color, and those were his real eyes, and this was his father's face. The bandages and bruises weren't enough to disguise the man he'd seen in the mirror. Neil thought he'd throw up but he was too weak to manage it.
"Breathe," Wymack said.
Neil didn't realize he'd stopped until Wymack's fist on his back pounded the air back into his lungs. He clawed at the cabinet door and choked on the first breath he managed. He had to grit his teeth against a cry he didn't dare voice. It was too late to tell Wymack not to look. It was too late for Wymack to pretend he hadn't seen. Wymack didn't know who he was looking at but that didn't matter.
The click of a lighter pulled him back right before he went over that edge, and Neil took the cigarette Wymack offered him. He cradled it close and breathed in as deep as he could. It hurt to breathe but he did it anyway. Each successive breath pulled hard at his stitches and the bandages taped to his skin. He pressed his free hand to his coat, trying to feel the gauze through thick wool. He finally inhaled so deep he choked on it. He coughed so hard he thought he'd break something, but on the tail-end of his coughing he was laughing.
It sounded twisted and wrong in this suffocating space, but Neil couldn't stop. He bit his hand to muffle the sound, but it didn't help. Hysteria was one hard blink away from taking over.
"Neil," Wymack said. "I need you to talk to me."
"I think I pulled my stitches," Neil said. "I feel blood."
"Where?" Wymack asked.
"Everywhere?" Neil guessed, and tried undoing his coat buttons one-handed.
Wymack pushed Neil's hand out of the way. Neil let Wymack fight with the buttons and zipper, but it took both of them to get Neil's coat off. Neil caught the fingertip of one glove in his teeth and tugged, only to wince at the way his cheek twinged. Wymack noticed the expression and reached for Neil's face. Neil hadn't realized he had bandages on his face until Wymack pried gauze and tape off.