Louis collapsed into bed early that night. He could still hear Richard in his room listening to music and playing games on his laptop, but he ignored it. Sleep came easily despite his worries about falling behind on studying, on keeping up with his classwork. He closed his eyes, tossed and turned for only a few minutes, and then sank into a deep, dreamless sleep.
The screaming woke him up at four in the morning. He glanced at his clock and was relieved to see that he’d gotten a good six hours of sleep this time. Richard had probably only been sleep for half an hour or so, but he kept odd hours anyway. If the kid could get back to sleep, he’d be fine, and he usually could.
Richard had already stopped screaming by the time Louis opened his bedroom door. The younger brother was sitting on his bed, arms wrapped around his knees, eyes wide. He hadn’t pissed the sheets, but he looked even worse than the night before somehow. Absolutely terrified. Almost catatonic.
“You okay, man?” Richard asked.
Louis shook his head, his eyes unblinkingly locked on some distant point only he could see.
“What happened? Same dream?”
Louis shook his head again.
“Still the Thin Man?”
“Come on, man. I need you to talk to me if I’m going to help.”
Louis turned to look at his brother for the first time since the door had opened. “He found me. He knows where I am. I could see him, man. See him creeping around in the shadows, standing up as tall as the window and looking in, eyes fucking shining like flashlights and grinning, grinning, grinning.
“What are we going to do, man? Where am I going to go?”
That’s it, Richard thought. Time to have a little talk with Frank.