Eddie Munson - Novel Like

046 - Chicken Noodle

The dark paneled walls are slowly closing around me. The stench of cheap cologne and a failed justice system fill my nose.

"We the jury find the defendant, not guilty."

My head sags in bereavement, as cheers erupt from the opposite side of the court room. A familiar hand pulls my hollow shell from the hard backed chair and away from the mocking stares.

As I'm pulled from the room, I give one final glance over my shoulder and meet the gaze of a repulsively triumphant Jason. He slowly smiles at me, the corners of his mouth mirroring the Cheshire cat.

My eyes become glued to the menacing stare, unable to look away. I feel my chest become heavy, incapable of taking in necessary breaths. Jason's smile continues to widen, and his eyes begin to expand. My heart races with a mixture of overwhelming fear and an all-consuming rage.

Life floods my lungs before releasing the most dauntingly visceral sound my body has ever produced. Ripping my body from the grips of comfort and straight into darkness.

My eyes snapped open from the fever ridden dream as frantically fought to regain a sense of cognizance. My breathing felt erratic, my skin covered in a sheen of sweat.

Just a dream...a very bad dream.

I rubbed the back of my neck, peeling the damp hair from my skin. Sleep had been evading me, stress and anxiety taking its place. Jason's trial was only a week away and I'd been a nervous wreck for days.

To top it all, I gotten the flu. I began to feel it that night at Eddies, after the party. That uncomfortable tickle in my throat, the slight ache in my bones. I shook it off, disregarding it as exhaustion from a long, exciting day.

The next day however, my head was foggy, and I felt like I'd swallowed barbed wire coated in gasoline. My bones felt like they were between vice grips, and the amount of pressure I felt in my sinuses was enough to end it all.

I heard the front door open and close before the familiar heavy footsteps entered my bedroom. Eddie was wearing his well-loved Black Sabbath concert tee and grey sweatpants with a duffel bag slung over his shoulder.

The second his bourbon eyes met mine, his face fell with sadness.

"Hi" I croaked.

Jesus, I sound like just chain smoked a carton of Newport's.

"Oh no" Eddie sighed.

"I'm not gonna lie to you, Ed's. I think I'm dying."

"Like hell you are. Come here" he muttered, making his way to my bed.

I threw my hand up, pressing it against his hard chest. "No. I don't want you to get sick."

He scoffed and shook his head, causing his mocha waves to crash around his chiseled jaw. "Allison Reed, if you think a little snot is gonna keep me away from my girl, you obviously don't know me as well as I thought you did."

Eddie softly touched the back of his hand to my forehead, cheeks, and neck. The chill of his rings, like ice on my fevered skin.

"You're burning up. When's the last time you had any medicine?"

I watched in admiration as Eddie pressed his tongue to his upper lip in concentration, carefully measuring out my dosage. He had several mannerisms he did on a regular basis, but this one I found particularly endearing. I felt the corners of my mouth twitch upwards as he handed me the tiny plastic cup, filled with the precise amount of unpleasant liquid.

"What?" he asked, noticing my grin.

"You're cute" I whispered, unwilling to force a louder volume through the soreness.