Danny loses control

D anny leaned against the wooden crate, staying hidden in the deep shadows. He raised his free hand to scratch his hair through the wool ski cap he had pulled down over his face.

On his other arm he had draped the heavy black wool coat he had brought. His plan was to overpower Reva and muffle her cries by throwing the coat over her head. He looked around for the guard, but none was in sight. Lame security, he thought.

As he scratched his head through the hot ski cap, his back began to itch. He rubbed it silently against the wooden crate.

I always itch when I’m nervous, Danny thought. And I’m plenty nervous now.

He had entered the stockroom twenty minutes earlier to find a safe hiding place. Luckily for Danny, a shipment of furniture had just been unloaded. The big crates had been stacked against a wall in the center of the vast stockroom. They gave Danny the perfect place to hide—and to watch for Reva.

So far, so good, he thought, slipping down lower behind the crate as two men walked by, their shoes scraping against the concrete floor.

If only this headache would go away.

The headache was a dull throb at his temples now. Danny closed his eyes and prayed it wouldn’t get more intense.

With the headaches came the anger, he knew. The red anger, Danny called it because he always saw flashes of red when the pain got really bad.

The pain made him angry, so angry he sometimes lost control. So angry he seldom remembered what he did.

Danny took a deep breath, then another, willing the headache away.

Reva, where are you? he asked silently, leaning out from behind the tall packing crate.

Reva, don’t keep me waiting. Please, don’t keep me waiting.

I don’t know how long I have... until the pain takes over, until the red sweeps over me, takes control of me.

Don’t keep me waiting, Reva. For your own good.

Footsteps.

There she is!

He braced himself, every muscle in his body tensed. He straightened the wool ski mask, peering out through the two eyeholes.

The throbbing at his temples grew stronger.

He raised the heavy black coat.

Then lowered it.

It wasn’t Reva. It was a middle-aged woman in a tight-fitting gray business suit. Her spike heels clicked loudly on the concrete as she passed.

Danny slumped back against the crate. He was breathing hard now, his breath escaping in noisy gasps. His head itched. He tried to ignore it.

Calm. Be calm.

But the throbbing pain in his head grew sharper, spread down over his eyes.

He closed his eyes, trying to force away the pain.

He could hear voices at one end of the stockroom, someone shouting angrily. Another voice replied, just as angrily.

Shut up. Shut up. Shut up.

He could feel the anger now, the throbbing anger, throbbing with the pain.

He opened his eyes, tried to focus.

But the walls were red. The wooden crates had turned red.

The floor shimmered red, bright red. Throbbing red.

Fight it down. Fight it down, Danny told himself.

This had been happening so often to him lately. First the pain, then the red anger.

Maybe I should see a doctor, he thought. He pressed his hands against the pulsing.

And then she was there.

Reva. Wearing a long white sweater over black leggings. Carrying a stack of small packages.

Yes.

Danny squinted through the bright red, saw her clearly. Saw her come near. Nearer.

Yes!

The pain shot through him. It felt as if someone were tightening a thick rubber band around the top of his head. Tighter. Tighter.

Glaring into the red, he crept up behind her.

He raised the black wool coat.

I’ve got you now, he thought, struggling against the pain, against the rage that roared through every muscle.

I’ve got you now, Reva.

I hope I don’t have to do anything terrible.

Дата добавления: 2015-07-20