Crystal Baller

Continued from The Wrong Side of the Road 

I'm pissed off at Jen, so I decide not to head home for a while. I'm sure Max will be home, so I swing by his apartment on the way. I'm greeted with a knowing smirk as he opens the door.

"For fuck's sake, have you been talking to Jen?"
Max nods, his grin widening, "What the fuck happened, man?"
I recount the tale for Max, tell him about this guy's huge presence, his obvious aggression, and his eventual confrontation.
"I swear though," I continue, "It was exactly like the way those mafia guys act back home. I know you don't really have anything like that here but I don't really know how else to describe it."
Max shakes his head with a smile and grabs me a beer out of the fridge.

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It's late when I finally get home. Or early, rather. Max is one of those guys that can convince you to always drink a little more.

"Nah, nah, Max, I'm done," I'd tried to convince him around midnight, chucking the Xbox controller down on his couch and standing up.

"Ohhh," he'd said, looking a little disappointed, "Are you sure?"

And then I don't know how he did it, but I was sitting on the couch again, having another beer.

It was around 5am when I finally managed to pull myself away. But that point we'd also moved onto some weed and made some pasta. Max makes a damn good pesto. 

"Say hi to Jen for me!" he laughed as I walked out the door. I was a little on edge from the dope- it doesn't happen too often, just every now and then- so I sort of frowned at him as I shut the door behind me.

It's not long after 5am now, I think. I don't live far from Max, so it can't be. I struggle to find the light on my cellphone and then finally point it at the lock as I unlock the door. 

I keep the lights off as I tiptoe in. Jen would have been in bed hours ago. Her door is closed which confirms it, so I just head to my bed and crash.

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The ringing of our phone is shrill when I wake up. I moan and roll over to look at my clock. 8:17. No way I'm getting up just yet.

"Jen," I almost-yell (well, it would be yelling if I had enough energy to yell without throwing up), "Can you get that?"

The ringing continues. I sit up a little too fast and have to hold on to the edge of the bed for a second. I make my way to the hallway just in time to miss the phone call, but when I get to the hallway I suddenly feel even sicker. The contents of Jen's handbag are on the floor.

Nothing to worry about, I'm sure, but she's obviously come home wasted, maybe even later than me, and I hope she's okay. I stumble to her door and knock gently.

"Jen... Jen... You alright in there?"

No answer.

I turn the handle and push the door open gently to begin, but a flash of red causes me to fling the door open quickly.

Blood. Everywhere. The sheets, the floor. Everywhere. And no Jen.

I start to panic. I don't know what to think. I'm still a little edgy and definitely still drunk. I half-run the couple of steps to her bed and desperately pull at the sheets, in case she's somehow hiding in there.

I collapse onto my knees and grab my hair. Her phone is here. On the floor in the lounge. Where is she?

The apartment phone rings again.

I get up, stumbling and banging my knee on the doorframe to Jen's room along the way, but eventually pick up the phone.

"Hello?" I answer, out of breath and with my heartrate through the roof.

"Nathan." the voice answers. No one calls me Nathan. 

"Yeah," I answer desperately, already envisioning the horror movie I must be in.

"Nathan, we've called the cops. We've told them everything. We told them about the screaming, about how you were drunk and violent."

"What the fuck?" I yell into the phone, freaking out now. I look out our window. Is someone watching me?

"So now you've got two options," the voice continues calmly. Either we get you in prison, or we get you outside prison. And your family."

This sounds like a joke. This sounds like some stupid kids playing a game. The dialogue is all wrong. Everything is all wrong. Nothing makes any sense. 

I'm hardly listening as the threats continue down the phone. If they don't get me, they'll get my family. No matter where in the world they are. I start to yell back into the receiver but the caller has already hung up.

I try to think. This is a prank. This has to be a prank. Jen always takes the piss out of me. But the blood. I don't know. I don't know what to think. And then I notice it. A cop car pulling up outside. I'm a dead man.

I grab my keys and jacket and sprint for the apartment parking lot.