It was morning. Somehow I’d managed to get to sleep, or had I finally just passed out again from the alcohol? I startled at the sound of water running in the bathroom, and then the door opened up and light flooded into the room. “Time to get up, sleepyhead!” Coach called out cheerfully. I sat up in bed. My head was hurting, but more than hurting, it was filled with thoughts—confusing, awful, terrible thoughts. “You need to get up and take a shower. I’m going to grab breakfast for everybody for the drive … you okay with an Egg McMuffin meal?” “Yeah, sure,” I mumbled. “Great!” he exclaimed. “I’ll be back in fifteen. You have to be washed, dressed, packed, and waiting outside by the front office. You return the key, okay?” “The key?” “To the room. It’s on the dresser. I already have my bag with me.” He paused. “Are you okay?” How could I be okay? “Yeah.” “Great. See you at the car. And remember, fifteen minutes. We’ll be waiting.” The door closed behind him—locking as it closed—with the key on the dresser.
