That night, he slept fitfully, as usual. But this time, the nightmare warped brutally. The pool of blood and two bodies lying in the fast-clotting blood were still present, but this time, the woman was Amy. He awoke with a paralyzed scream, drenched in his own sweat.
Once he had regained control of his erratic breathing, he reached blindly for his phone. It was always set on the little oak bedside stool every night before he dropped off to sleep. He felt around for it for a few moments to no effect.
Frowning, he sat up, already angry at the minor inconvenience. "Where are you, stupid?" he muttered as if the phone could hear him speak. He slid his legs off the bed in an effort to scour the entire room, and that was when he felt something hard under his left thigh.
