Chapter Twenty-one

Whimpers, more whimpers. Kayla draped a hand over her forehead, the other squeezing the sheet, writhing. Where in God's name did the headache come from? A strong dizziness accompanied the ache, even. She popped in pain pills and went back in the bed, not minding her work hours drew closer.

The ache was yet to abate when reality dawned on her. Her eyes roamed about, she tried to untangle the knots in last night's memory. How did she get to her bedroom, change to her nightwear and sleep off? Those pale stalkers in the supermarket… they followed her to the lot, where she entered her car and drove off. What happened next? Maybe she shook them off. Even if she lost them, what happened after she got into her car?

She knew nothing that happened last night, but at least she knew that the piano blaring in the house infuriated her! That imposter was playing Clinton's song again! She squeezed the sheet and growled, trying to repress the rage that sooner sent her storming to the living room. She