Page 30 of Sinful Skulls
“I’ll pay for your room. Just stay where you’re at. Text me the name of the hotel and the address as soon as we end this call. We’ll be there Saturday at three.”
“If she’s not my mom, why are you coming?”
“Because we want to help.”
I pull my computer to my lap and flip through her paintings.
“Daisy, are you still there?” Anthony asks, pulling me from my thoughts.
“Yeah, I’m still here. I’ll see you then.” I hang up the phone, dropping it to the floor.
I’m pacing the room again when I begin to hear voices. They’re whispering. My fingers wrap around the skull ring that hangs from my necklace. I strain my ears and close my eyes, trying to focus on what the voices are saying.
Maybe I’m dying. No. I’m not dying. I’m just going crazy.
I begin to cry. I’m so fucking exhausted. I fall to the floor and hold my head in my hands. “I don’t know what to do. Please tell me what to do,” I plead while rocking myself.
The necklace around my neck comes undone, and the skull ring rolls across the floor. I pick up the necklace and wrap my hand around it.
The woman who gave it to me said it was a sign an angel was near.
An angel.
My dark angel.
Angels fight demons, don’t they?
I scoop up the ring and press it to my lips. The whispers are only getting louder and louder. I can’t take it anymore! I need help.
My hands shake as I sit on the bed, struggling with my phone.
Wait. I’ve already messaged him? Why don’t I remember that? I sent it two hours ago. I’m losing my mind.
Me: I’m in Reno. You’re not far from here, are you? Do you want to meet up for a drink?
A few seconds later, he returned my text.
Brody: Shoot me an address and I’ll be there in a couple of hours.
My knee bounces. Why did I ask him out for drinks?! God, I’m such a mess. I can’t go out.
Oh no. I even sent him my hotel information. I must be insane!
The whispers begin again, assuring me that I’m spot on with my self-diagnosis.
Again, his response was immediate.
Brody: See you soon.
He’ll be here soon. I put a chair in front of the alarm clock and sit down in front of it. Okay, how much time do I have to pull myself together? My body rocks back and forth as the red numbers morph into a language I can’t decode. An hour? No, that wouldn’t be right. I sent him the message two hours ago. I blink, shaking my head.
My brain is playing tricks on me.
My frustration builds as I try to work out in my mind how long it will take him to get here. He said two hours.
So soon, right?
My dark angel will be here soon.
