I don't see it coming. I walk into the hotel room and I'm confused for a moment, because there's no sign of Robin. She should have been here a good hour before me and she's nowhere, not in the bedroom nor the bathroom. I'm about to call reception when I spot a scrap of paper on the bed and, unknowingly, I pick it up. When I read the words, scrawled black shapes, I don't recognize his handwriting but I know it's him. Dread fills me. Fear grips my heart. And I know she's gone.
*-*-*
Robin was always been competitive and I loved that about her. I quickly learned how close she kept her cards to her chest, while at the same time sometimes revealing way too much. I was drawn to that aspect of her personality immediately. I felt that, should I choose to play with her, she would always play to win, she'd always cheat, but the game would be worth it.
We'd been dating for about two months, and I realize there were these things I'd let slide which, in hindsight, I should have gotten on top of. I knew that Robin had this weird hold on her friend Barney, and that he felt he owed her for something huge. I'd even tactfully taken her friend Marshall aside and asked about it, because it was weird how he looked at her sometimes, just in flashes, like a dog waiting to be beaten. Marshall, who by the way was one nice, upstanding guy, advised me, "Don, dude, don't worry. Sure, Barney and Robin have a history but that's just what it is, history. There's nothing between them now. It's just some residual stuff they gotta work out. Seriously, Bro, you and Robin? You're great together. Keep at it, man!" And he beamed his huge, puppy-dog smile, and I shrugged it off, put it out of my mind.
In hindsight, that was my first mistake. I see that now.
*-*-*
It took me a while to associate cause and effect. I don't think I'm particularly slow. I'd challenge any guy, in a new relationship, where he'd not exactly made a good first impression - I'd challenge that guy to make the right call. Robin, she was so into sex and she was great in bed. I realized that certain things got her fired up, I'm not stupid. But I always thought they were related to me.
After all, we were dating. Why would I think anything else?
*--*--*
It started out small. When we hung out at this old Irish bar in the basement of her apartment building, I'd sometimes notice how Robin would taunt Barney, and make him jump through hoops for her. Since her friends went with it, since they always laughed heartily, I tried to laugh too. And let's face it, Barney was kind of a douche-bag, and it seemed like he always wanted to be the centre of attention. When people got one back at him, it was a relief.
That sounds harsh. That sounds like he was asking for it and I'm sure he wasn't. It wasn't until much later that I notice the cruelty creeping in, and began to put two and two together and come up with an approximation of four.
*--*--*
There was this one time that sticks out in my mind, the time I suppose that I first began to have my suspicions; the time that I first began to wonder about her.
Ted, Robin's roommate, he asked everybody about their plans for the weekend. Robin mentioned some game. Something like... what was it? Laser tag or paintball? I don't remember. But I do know that Barney interrupted her, telling everyone about his brother coming over and some visit with his mother. I'm guessing Barney's brother lives a way aways, because this seemed like a big thing. I let the conversation wash over me, feeling, as I sometimes did, like an outsider to this gang of closely-knit friends. Usually Robin would take my hand, squeeze it, and include me in the conversation. But this time she gave Barney a withering stare and told him that he should ditch his family outing and come with the rest of us. She told him he was being "lame and boring" to want to hang out with "a married couple with a kid and an old lady". Even I could tell how this got to the poor guy.
Poor guy. Why do I, even now, feel sympathy for him?
Anyways, the weekend comes around and Barney turned up at Robin's place. Robin claimed she'd forgotten about the paintball-thing and Barney was furious. I mean, properly incandescent with rage. He threw something across the room - I remember it shattering. I was an inch away from getting physical with the guy, just for everyone's safety, when he stormed out.
I remember my heart pounding, how awkward I felt. I remember Robin's reassurances that Barney was always like that, always over-dramatic. But I don't know. I guess I thought it was a mean of Robin, making the guy miss this family thing to be with his friends, only to forget about it.
Somehow, in the midst of our conversation about it, Robin started getting hot and heavy with me. I mean, real hot and real heavy. She straddled my lap and began grinding me like a $10 hooker. It was... weird. Embarrassing and a little dirty. Kinky I guess. I went with it.
I'm a dude. What're you gonna do?
*-*-*
Robin kept finding ways of messing with Barney and it seemed to get worse and worse. She'd taunt him a little more viciously. Bully him a little more obviously. Although Marshall and Lily would let it slide (maybe because Robin and I hung out with the two of them more), I found that Ted would start to pick her up on it. There were times when Barney would ignore our group completely, haunt the bar and do what he did best.
He'd hit on women.
And okay, the guy was single and desperate and there were a lot of single, desperate women in that Irish bar.
But every time it got bad, and an atmosphere would develop, I'd get a little nervous. I started to realize that those were the times when Robin would be the most passionate in bed, that she'd ride me the hardest, demand the most. Those where the times when her long legs would wrap around my waist and her spine would arch off the bed and she'd cuss and shout at me until I'd made her come.
Those were the times she'd demand that I go down on her if I couldn't get hard again quickly enough to please her.
Those were the times when I'd start to feel used.
*-*-*
I walked in on an argument between the two of them. I remember the flash, the snapshot of Barney, in the instant before he pushed past me and stormed out. I remember the look of triumph on Robin's face, the way she flew across the room and wrapped her arms tight around my neck, kissing me hard.
I remember that she didn't taste right somehow. I remember that she tasted of second-hand scotch and cigars.
*-*-*
I guess I should have seen it coming. I haven't seen Barney in a week, and that alone should have warned me. But Robin said something last night, on the phone. She'd sounded scared and she'd begged me to meet her here, at this hotel. She'd told me that she needed to get away from something, quickly, and she'd sounded scared. I turn the scrap of paper over and over in my hand, reading it and re-reading it. I don't recognize his handwriting but the words cut right through my gut and I reach for my phone, calling 911 and fearing the worst. The very worst. On the scrap of paper it reads "She belongs to me." And on the corner, stark crimson against white, is a drop of blood. I guess that there's a limit to which a woman can push a man before he's bent so far out of shape that he snaps. And dear God, I fear for Robin right now.