The phone rang out, shrill against the night’s unbroken silence.
Tina groggily arose from her slumber. She sat up quickly, wincing from the alcohol-induced pain in her head.
With Angelica staying at Kit’s, Tina had carelessly thrown back the drinks.
Her eyes adjusting to the darkness, Tina attempted to locate the irritatingly loud handset. Succeeding, she confirm the call and pre7sed it clumsily to the side of her head.
As Tina sat in that dark room, listening with incredible intent to the distant voice, she experienced a number of emotions. Primarily, fear. Pure, uncontained and untamed fear. Worry and horror seemed to ooze from every atom of the room. Lightning quick panic struck through the air at her, stabbing every inch of her.
Her body numbed to the pains and her hands released the plastic-encased communative devise.
The disgustingly warm bile rose in her throat and she felt herself tremble.
Hurring to her parked car, she worried not about the drink she had consumed. She couldn’t care less what the risks were. She had never felt more alert.
Tragedy was the quickest stimulant.
She felt her freshly sobered body force the acceleration pedal down. Her ears missed the squealing of her own tyres as she set off, feeling the pressure as she rode on against Time itself.
Running down the different corridors, she felt the first pains of loss. Still clad in white PJ bottoms and a Yale sweatshirt, previously owned by her ex she ran bare-foot, cursing the repetitive white of the walls.
Tears rose as she drew nearer; tears sprung from frigh, regret and, strangely enough.. Acceptance.
Never relenting her sprint, she crashed through the doors and threw herself to the nearest desk, crying out in pain and anguish.
Her voice, barely audible from the crushing emotion, cracked and trembled as she spoke the name she presently dreaded.
Tina wept openly as the name that usually made her heart sing hung in the air, a clear question, awaiting direction.
“Bette Porter?”