Page 60 of Carry On

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Gunfire.

Screaming.

“No, no, no,” I muttered, pushing the heels of my palms harder into my temples.

Not gunfire.

No screaming.

Soft rug.

Four walls.

Two windows.

Plants.

Lots of fucking plants.

Gunfire.

Screaming.

Explosions.

Screaming.

So muchscreaming.

My breath came faster and ragged as I paced my room. Back and forth.

Back and forth.

Over and over.

Back and forth.

The walls vibrated with the screaming.

So much screaming.

I couldn’t get it to stop. No matter how hard I tried. Sleep was pointless. It escaped me. Taunted me. Reprieve was right there—dangling right out of my reach.

Soft rug.

Four walls.

Two windows.

Gunfire.

Screaming.

“Fuck,” I moaned. My knees buckled, giving out. I crawled to the bed until I managed to lean against it for support. I buried my face in the blankets, desperate to make it all end.

Soft blankets.

Soft rug.

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