The driver’s side window was rolled down and cold air rushed in. He had the usual moment of anxiety, not knowing where he was or how he’d gotten there—this time it was even more pronounced because even after a few seconds he still didn’t know.He was in the car, pulled off on the side of the road on a long empty stretch of two-lane highway. He craned his head around, looking for any other signs of life, but he was completely alone. No memory of how he’d gotten there.His heart rate slowed down eventually and he rolled up the window and sat there shivering. “Jesus Christ,” he said. “Jesus fucking Christ.”The nightmare was vivid in his mind. He could still feel the sensation of fur on his fingertips, could still taste the copper tang of adolescent rage.His muscles ached horribly. He fumbled around in his pockets until he found the pain pills. He popped them open, shook two of them out onto his palm. He stared at them. Then he slid them back into the bottle and closed it and put it back in his pocket.Go with the pain, he told himself.
