I was laying face up on my bed, listening to the sounds of the downtown night traffic outside my apartment. Normally, I’m a stomach sleeper, but after my … trip… to Pleasant Grove earlier in the week, my face just couldn’t take the pressure. I’d avoided leaving my apartment much this week as the wounds on my face inflicted by Detective Washington blossomed from red welts into deep purple bruises, and they were only just starting to fade to yellow, leaving me with a jaundiced movie-zombie complexion. I’d emptied a large bottle of Advil over the last few days. The pain was intense, and it seemed to be more than just the bruises – I’d probably overtaxed myself with the lack of sleep, major spell-slinging, and the physical abuse of the kidnapping, but you do what you have to do to survive.
The pain was just starting to fade a bit, allowing me to think about sleep when my phone rang. I pondered ignoring it, but given the limited number of people who had my number, it was probably important. I rolled upright and grabbed the phone, but didn’t quite vocalize as I gingerly placed the receiver to my ear. “Hrmph?”