He downed two of the four bottles they had within a minute. In the moments of sobriety he lived then, Uriah could only wonder how he’d slipped under Sabrina’s radar. But the refreshing journey of the fluid down his esophagus dispelled all rational concerns.
No more than ten minutes after his last words to Sabrina, a sudden rush of lust for her overtook him. He still had enough sense to be stealthy, ensuring that all a third party would hear was his breath and, through a not quite soundproof yet sealed high window, the faint chirping of a jay. He brought his hands closer to the floor and the blanketed mass that lay on it, lower, lower, until one could almost mistake him for a sleeping figure.
It was hot under the quilt, so much so that he would’ve stopped to undress himself had a reckless jerk of his arm not interrupted him.
A foreign object brought Uriah a sensation of such pain density in his shoulder that he fell crashing forward.
“You’re drunk? Really?” The voice, so simultaneously vitriolic and frightened he could barely recognize it, wrapped one of the covers around his head once more. From his limited range of vision she appeared to hop over him toward an empty Nicky D’s, throwing it at the far wall, and snatching a sharp piece of glass fearlessly. “Hold still, you rummy.”
She sliced a strip of the cloth off and wrapped it around Uriah’s wound, which had disabled him too severely for any of his protests. “Ugh, this is just what I needed!” she moaned at the sight of the speed with which Uriah’s blood seeped through the cloth. She turned toward the wall. “What more do you want, you goddamn sadist?”
Meanwhile Uriah, still face-down, was spouting a cacophony of curses while trying to grab Sabrina with his uninjured arm. “Com’ere, super fr–”
“Get offa me!” Sabrina crushed his hand with the heel of her shoe. “I dunno what stupid reason you had for exposing your brain, and that’s giving you the benefit of the doubt here, but this has to stop.”
Uriah was in tears now, swearing some more, and none of this made him want her any less. Give her a minute, she’ll get tired of games, and then –
Sabrina shoved two pills into his mouth and clamped it shut. In his mind, this only confirmed his suspicions. She was trying to get him to choke. What was the harm in playing along? Eventually apathy caught up with him and the pills went down.
“There. Painkillers.” She grabbed her gun, picked up the remaining rum and held it out of his reach, and backed away through the hole. “Now, don’t say a word or your ass is grass.”
Painkillers? Uriah had a feeling that was bunk. The Sabrina he knew probably gave him something a little more conducive to her desires. Perhaps a hit of something to make him …