CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
By now, the pounding in my skull had graduated to stabbing levels. "What friend?" I asked, though I knew the answer.
But I was talking to dead air. I clicked disconnect and threw the phone down on the sofa.
Like a zombie, I stumbled toward the bathroom, where I kept an emergency stash of Oxy buried deep behind the toilet paper, shampoo, conditioner, and other toiletries stored under the sink. I grasped the pill bottle and almost ripped the top off in my haste to ease the endless pain.
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