Blood Waste

5. Wake

5. WAKE

I woke with a scream, clutching my pounding head in agony as I jolted upwards in bed.

“Ugh,” I groaned. “What a night.” Yawning, I stretched my arms behind my head, not willing to open my eyes yet.

“Wait, what night?”

My arms dropped instantaneously, falling against the smooth bedspread. Mm, silk, I thought to myself, sighing in pleasure and relief at the calming touch.

Eyes ripping open, I dragged my feet back to my chest and moved back against the backboard as fast as I could.

“Since when do I have silk sheets?” I spoke aloud, petrified. “And I sure as hell don’t have a backboard!” Rubbing the sleep from my eyes, I finally looked around, squinting as I waited for them to adjust to the shadowy area.

I wasn’t in my room.

Hell, I wasn’t even in my own house.

Taking a deep breath, I closed my eyes; willing myself to forget the grand-four-poster bed I was sitting on, and the extremely vintage furniture around me. I could just open them again and I’d be back in my bed, at home, and then go into mom’s room to wake her. Yeah, definitely.

Opening my eyes once more, I looked into darkness. Sliding my hand over the sheets, I swore.

“Shit. Shit shit shit. Don’t freak out, Tori. Don’t freak out.”

Great, I was talking to myself.

I shut my eyes again, trying to remember what the fuck had happened the night before.

Stacy was there. No, she left. I sighed in frustration, my fist tightening around the sheets. Wait, we were at Christopher Bale’s house – Everything came back to me in a rush.

I slowly reached a shaky hand up to my face, checking for the damage the shovel had left me. Trying to ignore the fact that I had been smacked in the head with a shovel, I lightly touched my nose, eyes widening in shock when I realized there was no crazy deformation marring my face.

“What the…?” Stretching an arm behind my back, I reached up the light t-shirt, feeling for the spot I remembered the slicing pain before I was, er, knocked out. Nothing.

Tentatively, I scooted to the edge of the bed, lowering my feet to the floor hesitantly. I felt as if the floor would swallow me whole at the lightest tap, never to be seen again.  Idiot, I reprimanded myself.

Shivering, I stiffened – and then proceeded to freak out.

A strangled scream found its way up my throat and I was no longer hesitant. Padding around the room, I felt up and down the walls until my hands found a doorknob. It jiggled, but didn’t open. I pounded against it, yelling obscenities, threats, and nearly anything I could think to say that sounded scary or intimidating. Which sadly, wasn’t a lot.

It was no use.

I was trapped. Slumping against the door, I fell to the floor and laid my head in my hands with a sigh.

“What the hell did I do this time?” I grasped my hair angrily, nearly tearing it out in the process. “What’s happening to me?”

I stood, abruptly. My eyes had adjusted to the dim room, and I could make out old furniture in every corner, with dusty sheets covering them. Cantering over to the windows, I tried to push them open. The splintery wood resisted, pressing into my hands and I swore.