Friday, February 2nd
It was noon the next day before Patrick climbed out of bed. Nightmares hovered as he poured a bowl of cinnamon toasties. The familiar sweet crunch brought a measure of comfort, and thoughts of Saturday morning cartoons replaced the bleeding girl in the basin and the rivers of yellow vomit.
Anthony exited the bathroom and flopped down next to him. "So where'd you go last night?"
"Eh, just some stuff with Mikey." Stuff that's probably gonna get me whipped again.
"Yeah, I figured that out." Anthony absently picked at the bandages he'd plastered over the hickey. They made him look like he'd been attacked by a vampire.
Vampire.
"You know Mikey," Patrick murmured without meeting his friend's eyes.
"Fine, whatever. Don't tell me."
"There's nothing to tell." That you'd believe.
"I said……
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