Never Alone Read Free Page A

safe. I’ll call you tomorrow.”
    _____
    The Town Car crossed the Brooklyn Bridge into Manhattan and zipped up the FDR Drive along the East River. Megan stared out the window at all the lights, thinking of her empty apartment, her empty bed. All that quiet, and the long hours before dawn. When the car was two blocks away from her building, she told the driver to take a left and then stop. Kinsale’s Bar would be in full swing, and she wanted to be too.

two
    Through an exhausted breath, he asked, “What did you say your name was again?”
    The room smelled of pot and booze. Pitch-black with the exception of the Manhattan lights filtering in through the curtains. Moaning, the occasional grunt, and the sound of the headboard banging against the wall filled the bedroom.
    â€œI didn’t.” This is not the time for small talk, dude , Megan thought. She was straddling him with her eyes closed, gyrating his cock between her legs, deep inside her. She ran one hand up and down his sweaty chest, while the other rubbed her clit. She noticed he had large, soft hands as they played with her nipples. She liked that, especially when the sex was rough, especially with a stranger.
    They’d met in Kinsale’s. Just past one in the morning, he sat down on the stool next to her. A half hour later they were back in her Upper East Side apartment. She wasn’t looking for a romantic evening, obviously, just a fuck-fest. It’s funny how few men ever denied her that.
    He moaned and came long before she hoped for.
    Jackass.
    He whispered, “God, that was incredible.” She barely had time to dismount before the next noise coming from her bed was a gruff snore.
    â€œChrist.”
    She went to her dresser to get her jackrabbit and gave herself what the man sleeping in her bed couldn’t: a nice hard, make-your-eyes-roll-to-the-back-of-your-head orgasm.
    Thank God for Duracell.
    She decided a quick shower was in order—not out of shame, just cleanliness. Megan kept shame at bay when it came to sex. An unmarried woman in her thirties had as much right as a man to get her needs met. Besides, there were plenty of other places in her life where shame could plant itself.
    Afterward she toweled off, threw her hair back, put on a pair of boxer shorts and white T-shirt. Then she opened up the medicine cabinet and popped an Ambien. Not only did she find herself grateful for battery companies, but pharmaceutical companies made her top-ten list as well.
    _____
    It was one of those nightmares when you know you’re dreaming, but you don’t know it enough to wake yourself up. She’d had the dream a thousand times, so she knew how it would end. Not that that made waking up any easier.
    She was walking down the street, drunk, a three-beer kind of drunk for being a senior in high school. She’d left a party and was on her way back to her girlfriend’s dorm. Two blocks. The longest two blocks she’d ever walk in her life.
    He grabbed her from behind and pulled her through trees blocking an empty house. The For Sale sign had weeds growing around it. His hand tasted of cigarettes and sweat and something she wouldn’t recognize until later. Blood. She kicked, tried to scream, but the only sounds available were muffled pleas. Two pit bulls were tied to the radiator. They lunged at her, lusting for fresh meat. Their gritted fangs dripped saliva. The sound of their ravenous barks was as clear in the dream as it was sixteen years ago.
    He gripped her by the back of the head, slamming it down onto each step of the staircase as he dragged her to the second level. She grabbed onto the banister as if it were a life raft. That’s when she caught sight of the lit candles, garbage, ripped newspapers, and, oddly enough, dolls strewn about the musty-smelling house. Most of the dolls were complete in form, others just headless torsos. And the thought came to her, just as the glare of the blade passed