Page 72 of Aftermath
I never thought about it at the time, but now, I was certain.
“No, I don’t think it was,” I said firmly. “I always assumed that’s why I started not to feel well, but no matter what I do, that night is a blur. I can barely remember anything, besides the fact that my head felt fuzzy, and then it’s just black.”
“You were drugged,” Stone guessed.
Reality hit me like a ton of bricks. Never once had I considered it. I didn’t stick around long enough at the hospital to know if they ever tested me.
I walked without another thought. I was confident I was heading toward the beach, but the cloudier my head became, the harder it was to keep track of my surroundings.
Something hard and blunt hit my head, my legs giving out. I remembered the feeling of my knees hitting the ground, the stinging pain of the pavement against them. I definitely did not make it to the beach.
I tried to look up, but my head felt heavy, another hit forcing me to the ground completely.
A mind-splitting headache spread across my skull.
My breathing picked up, and I felt Stone squeeze my hand tighter. I couldn’t do this. There was nothing further to remember, everything just black from there on.
“Len,” Stone said slowly. “You can do this.”
I was tempted to open my eyes, to find his gentle brown eyes watching me, protecting me every step of the way. If I did, this would all end.
The pain, the torture, the burden of remembering.
“I can’t breathe,” I gasped, my other hand grasping at my chest.
My mind wouldn’t push on.
“What do you hear?” Stone pushed.
“I can’t-”
“You can, Len,” he pushed. “I am right here.”
Hear? I tried to listen, the sound of footsteps falling next to my head.
Leaves.
The footsteps fell on leaves.
What else? There had to be something, any bit of information to help Stone. There was a cool breeze against my skin, a consistent pounding in my head. The music, though distant, rang through my mind.
Music?
That should be impossible. I walked away from the pub.
“Music,” I rasped through broken breaths.
“Music?” Stone repeated back to me.
The music was so low, I barely could hear it. One voice, a low tune reached my ears, a sound that would haunt me the rest of my life. One single voice raked against my memory like claws dragging along my skin.
“No,” I said, even more confused.
“Take a breathe, Len,” Stone reminded me. “What exactly do you hear?”
I put myself back into the memory. The voice was distant yet close all at once. I tried to focus on it, but I couldn’t grasp it. It wasn’t something I could hold on to. It was low, unrecognizable. There were no instruments or words to it.
“Humming,” I said, and realized it was the killer.
