Broken Heart 04 Wait Till Your Vampire Gets Home
“I screamed. My mind was still foggy, but the tender hold of the drugs slipped away. I felt terrible; my mouth tasted like metal. I got off the table, my feet stabbed by broken glass and concrete shards. My legs folded, and I grabbed the table for support. Unbelievably, the light only dropped a couple of feet; it was still on, too. I lowered myself to the floor and crawled to Stan. Shards pierced my palms and knees, but the pain was dulled. Sweat dripped off my temples and rolled down my neck. The acrid smell of smoke singed my nostrils. It was familiar, that scent. Like home. Like family. I kept moving, thinking only of getting to Stan. I needed to save him, so I could strangle him later. My heart dropped when I saw Stan’s pale hand sticking out from the rocks. Seeing my old friend, my uncle Archie, buried by debris swept aside my anger about his actions. I could browbeat him later, if he lived to hear my harangue. I wasn’t leaving him in the rubble. I flung away rock after rock. “Stan?
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