One more missing link

“Agh!” I shouted, dropping to my knees. These words in my head. I couldn't keep them straight for more than a second, and a second after that they were gone, leaving the whole they'd burned in my neurons. Like pulling a knife from a wound. It's almost enough to make you miss the wound.

Where was Eden? This was her apartment. I lay down on my side and wondered if she ditched me for some quick hookup. That wasn't the Eden I knew, but I didn't know what I knew anymore. Or, worse, what if this was some elaborate setup?

What's that supposed to mean?

I didn't know. It didn't matter. Once a bad idea gets into your head it eats away until you can't think about anything else. Coming here was a mistake. "You can't trust anybody but yourself," I wheezed. It was an insane idea. That kind of thing was how you ended up in the streets with a cart full of other people's stolen coats. One weird night and I was almost on the verge of that?

Maybe not. But I was much too close. I found the energy to get back up onto my feet and got to the table. There was a stack of post it notes hanging from the fridge. I grabbed it and the pen with it and wrote out: "Thx 4 having me. Chat soon. Got 2 get home." The stupid numbers were affected. If I pushed myself, I could write a full paragraph, no problem, but I wanted to seem casual. That was as silly as suspecting Eden, but I was doing both.

Moving quickly, I gathered my dress and shoes, inspected them, knew they wouldn't do for a trip home, and resolved to borrow some of Eden's. Either she was the great friend I believed her to be (this morning) and she wouldn't care, or she was trying to screw me over somehow, in which case, fuck her, right? The math mathed to me. She was taller than me, but I had more junk in the trunk, so after rolling up the cuffs on a pair of her jeans I was off to a good start. She had a sweater sitting on the floor that I grabbed too. I would clean them and send them back to her, I promised silently. I also knew I didn't have a coat, but taking one of Eden's seemed like more than an unfair imposition. Cold wouldn't kill me this time of year.

Too much planning for a girl already off her rocker. The dull feeling was coming back. When it did–I was starting to piece it together–I was much more vulnerable to those episodes.

"Episodes," I said to myself. "Like a dementia patient." How far could 'early onset' go? Maybe I was one of the unlucky ones.

I doubted it.

Out into the city. Just one more party girl in the streets. Nobody (I hoped) would bat an eye.