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The Arrangement Anthology 2(79)

By:H.M. Ward


There are sharp words on the tip of his tongue, but he swallows them back. “What do you expect me to do?”

“Sleep.”

“No, after that. Tomorrow and the next day. One moment you seem fine with who I am and what I’ve done, and the next you’re calling me a coward.” Sean is leaning back in his chair while he rubs the side of his shot glass with this thumb.

“Nothing good comes after 3am and it’s so far past that, Sean. We’re both exhausted. Let’s sleep for a while and talk about it later.” My eyelids are lead and I swear to God that my head is going to fall forward and hit the table in a matter of moments. It sways on my shoulders as my lids droop.

“You still trust me?”

“Yes.” There’s no hesitation, no question about it. I completely trust him. Sean watches me as I put my head on my hand and lean heavily upon it. “Do you trust me?”

The corner of his lips twitches. “That’s a silly question.”

My elbow starts to slide and my head is going down. I can’t stop it. I rest my over-sided, extra heavy melon on my arms as I fold them on top of the table. “I’m a silly girl.”

“No, you’re not. That’s why I’m having so much trouble with you. Avery?”

I hear his voice, but I can’t speak any longer. I’m too tired. “Mmmm?”

“Don’t leave me.”

Turning my head, I open my eyes and smile at him, sleepily. “I’m not going anywhere. You’re stuck with me, Mr. Jones.” My words turn to a whisper as my eyes close. Sean’s voice fills my ears a moment later, but I have no idea what he’s saying. When I don’t respond, I’m jostled awake as I’m lifted from my chair. When my feet won’t move to walk, Sean swears under his breath, and then lifts me into his arms.

He carries me back into the room with the blow-up bed, muttering, “So much for not touching for a while.”





CHAPTER 9



My dreams are strange. The drowning nightmare collides with something new. One second I have the watery noose around my neck and the next I’m holding a gun and the walls are bleeding my name. I’ve shot someone. The pilot. A second after he dies, the man stands. His face is disturbing—it’s ghostly pale and rigor has set in, so all his loose flesh is pressed to the side. Crimson overflows from his eyelids, pouring down his chalky cheeks like twin rivers of blood. He moves so slowly, but I feel like I can’t escape. The man reaches for my neck and strangles me. Just as I suck in my last breath he explodes. Pieces of flesh fly in every direction and splatter against me. I scream and see Sean standing in blood red smoke. He walks toward me holding a noose. His voice sounds like he’s a million miles away even though he’s right in front of me. “Everything I touch...”

When his cold fingers press against my cheek, I screech, terrified. Suddenly, I’m in a box and the packaging peanuts are sucked out. The cardboard turns to silk and I realize it’s a coffin. I scream until my throat is raw and my lungs burn, but no one saves me.

Mel stands at my graveside, above me, patting her eyes with a tissue. “I tried to tell her, but she wouldn’t listen.” She’s talking to Marty, who says nothing. “Surviving justifies anything.”

The inside of the casket turns to fire and as the flames lick my feet, I can’t stand it anymore. I scream as I sit upright. I’ve clawed the satin off the coffin and it’s wrapped around me, pinning my arms to my sides. Tears streak my cheeks as I thrash, trying to get out.

That’s when I feel hands on my shoulders and hear his voice, “You’re all right. Wake up, Avery. Avery…?”

When my eyes open, I’m terrified. Sean is holding my shoulders and watching me. I want to break down and cry. I want to fall into his arms and purge my sorrow until there isn’t any left, but I can’t. “I’m fine.” I snap the words, embarrassed, and pull away from him. The blankets are tangled around my hips and legs.

“I didn’t want to wake you, but you were—”

“I’m fine.” I repeat the words again, more sternly this time.

“Very well.” Sean leans back against the bed. He’s still wearing his clothes. I’m in a shirt and no slacks. Getting tangled in the bedding always makes my nightmares worse, but this was the most horrific one I’ve ever had. I’m sitting on the edge of the bed, facing away from him. “Do you want to talk about it?”

“No.”

“All right, then, let’s get some food and get out of here for a while.”

“Sean,” I turn to look back at him, wondering what he wants from me. The room is cold and nasty looking. It’s as if it hasn’t been cleaned in a decade. Grime covers the walls and paint is old and cracked. There are filing cabinets along the opposite wall and a metal door to lock the employees out. I’m surprised Jon let us in here, especially with the way he and Sean are at each other’s throats.