I went to throw that lower torso half over the edge of the bed, but stopped myself. I remembered I broke the glass of the cup on the floor right next to my bed in the night and the shattered glass was still spread across the hardwood floor.

Stopped on the edge of the bed, I peered down at the glass and gulped down a hearty chunk of vomit because of what I immediately noticed. Trickling away from the thick pile of shredded glass was a trail of blood which pitter pattered on the floor until it disappeared out the doorway which led into the hall.

I wasn’t a forensic expert, but based on the wetness of the blood spatter, the blood appeared to be rather fresh. Couldn’t have been more than an hour or so old. Had I stumbled up out of bed in the night and stepped on the glass? I reached down and grabbed the bottom of my feet. Not a scratch. No.

My still-fogged brain began to panic. Someone was in the house this time. Someone was probably in the house in the night when I convinced myself they weren’t last time.

I scrambled for my phone which rested on the pillow next to my head with just two percent battery power. Shit. I hadn’t charged the thing in days, but I would probably still have enough juice to call the cops.

But there was a voicemail waiting on the home screen of my phone. I looked at the little message indicator for a few seconds and watched my phone’s power slip down to just one percent. I had to listen to it. I could flick out of it and then call 911 if it was worthless.

I put the phone to my ear and let the voicemail play.

I could tell the voice in the message belonged to Krista before she even spoke. Picked up her essence in the frantic inhale which opened up the message.

“Holly. You need to know this is not what I meant to happen. I had no idea. I had no idea what he wanted to do. I figured he wanted to find you just to know what you were doing. I never thought…”

Krista’s frantic voice paused.

“But when he found out what you were doing. Seeking sympathy for what you did, he couldn’t take it. He had to go to you. I tried to stop him, but I couldn’t. Maybe because I don’t really feel sorry for you. You are probably going to get what you deserve.”

Krista’s voice started to calm and speak more slowly and more clearly.

“You’re probably wondering what this all is and I’m sure it is a shock, but something is really wrong with Holly. You can’t remember what happened day-to-day because you pickled your piece of shit brain starting back 25 years ago, but you are not a good person. Josh wasn’t murdered. He ran away. He snuck off in the middle of the day and rode his bike until he ended up Oklahoma, far away from you, and became a foster child. A foster child I eventually took in and made my son. Josh ran away because you abused him. You can keep trying to deny it, but those tapes you heard, those photos he sent, they tell the real story. Why do you think the cops only questioned you? They figured you murdered Josh, but they could just never find proof. Why do you think no one in that town can look you in the eye.”

Krista began to break up again on the phone, her mouth full of spit. I imagined tears running down her cheeks.