Her words chip away at my wall, and silent tears fall, soaking into the crappy pillow. Been through something horrible? Is that all it is?
“Night, Char. I know you say I’m cold, but I love you too.”
Eleven
Waking with a stiff neck my broken nails attempt to scratch my itching skin, flinching at the red welts risen there, no doubt from being eaten by bed bugs all night. Shuddering I go to the bathroom and relieve my bladder, hovering over the seat so I don’t catch anything from it. My reflection irks me when I catch a glimpse of myself while washing my hands. Almost catatonic like I find myself staring at the pale complexion in the mirror. Dark half-moons sit under my eyes. The yellow, dull light flickers on and off, a buzzing sound coming from the bulb. Trying to summon the courage to face the day, I wake Charlotte. “We should see if we can go back to our apartment today. We need clothes. We have school and work.”
Wiping the sleep from her eyes, she stretches her limbs and grabs her cellphone. “It’s six a.m.” She winces.
“I know. Do you think it’s shitty of me to call Stephan for a ride?”
“I think it’s shitty of you to wake me up at six a.m.,” she scoffs, handing me her phone. “Call him.”
Handing Charlotte a breakfast bar from the vending machine, I unwrap my own and gag as the dry oats stick to the roof of my mouth. The thick tar coffee burns my gums as I attempt to wash the breakfast away.
Throwing them both in the trash, I grab Charlotte’s before she can bite hers.
“Hey!” she screeches, reaching for it.
“Trust me.” I shudder.
Stephan’s car pulls up, and Charlotte races to take the front seat.
“Hey.” He smiles at me in the rearview mirror as I climb in the back.
“Hey. Thanks again for the room.” I try to smile back, but my face feels frozen in a permanent glower.
“It reminded me of my prom night.” Charlotte sighs. It only took her five hours of sleep to bounce back to the Charlotte we know and love.
Ignoring that statement, Stephan asks me, “Where to?”
“Our apartment, please.”
“Have the police contacted you?” he asks, turning over the engine.
“No.” I play with the sleeves of my top, a pain in my stomach.
The ride is silent, a doom looming in the air, the darkness of what we’ve witnessed clouding all thoughts and conversations.
“It’s like it never happened,” Charlotte breathes, looking at the apartment building. The tape is gone. No cop cars or shining lights. No crowds gathered.
We get out of the car and Stephan comes around, kicking dirt at his feet. “You want me to come up with you?”
I play with my jacket pocket, everything coming to a head and leaving me fatigued. “Liz,” he murmurs, stealing the space between us and wrapping his arms around me. “I know it’s been a rough night. You should go up, get some rest, and don’t let this taint your apartment.” I find myself rigid in his embrace. I hate myself for it, but no matter how much I try to enjoy the comfort he selflessly offers, I can’t. Charlotte's words ring through my mind. This coldness you throw out will push people away. I am cold.
“Thanks again for everything,” I tell him, kissing his cheek and taking Charlotte's hand. Her eyes dart to where we’re connected, tears brimming “Ready?” I ask her.
“Ready.
Pulling the door open, the smell of bleach is so strong, my eyes burn. There’s no trace of what happened—only the pieces of memory flickering like a movie in my mind’s eye. Mrs. Brigg’s door creaks open, then slams shut before we can say anything. I guess we’re not going to be having any bonding experience over this. Taking the stairs one at a time, our breathing grows heavy with anticipation. Charlotte's feet drag when we reach our floor, her hand grabbing the railing, knuckles turning white. “You don’t need to be the brave one,” I assure her. “I’ll go in first.”
“No.” She shakes her head. “We’ll do it together.”
Smiling, I raise our joined hands. “Together.”
Pushing inside a cold bite to the air causes a shiver and goosebumps to pepper my flesh. Scanning the room for what, I’m not sure, what did I expect? It’s like nothing happened here. Charlottes hand slips from mine as she searches the place. There’s an overturned lamp, and the couch has been pushed out of place, but apart from that, everything looks the same.
“Lizzy…” Charlotte's frantic tone turns my stomach. I move toward her voice down the hall to our rooms, “The bottle,” she croaks.
The wine bottle Lee picked up when coming inside is smashed in the doorway of my room. “I’ll get the dustpan and brush.” I ignore the implication that the savage who killed him had been waiting in my room. Sweeping up the mess, I pour it into a box and leave it on the table, then turn back to Charlotte, who’s following me around the apartment like a child. “I’m going to shower and then crash for an hour,” I tell her, peeling off my clothes.
“Can you leave the door open?” She picks at her nails, her eyes on the floor.
“If this is too soon, we can spend another night at the hotel,” I tell her, dreading the thought.
“No.” She waves her hand. “I just…can you leave the door open?”
“Sure.”
Dark waves come crashing over me as I stand beneath the spray of the shower, my consciousness trying to slip away, splintering from reality as images plague my mind. I need to sleep, to shut it all out. A foul smell wafts up from the drain, making me gag. There must be a blockage. Tomorrow’s problem.
Twelve
It feels wrong sleeping in my room. The idea
