Day 6. And before the TV reception cut out the reports are saying the amount of snow fallen in the last 24 hours has reached record levels, cars left abandoned in the streets, businesses closed across the city as people are left trapped inside their apartments, temperatures across NYC dropping to sub-zero, and in related news police searches for the two most wanted men in the country compromised by weather conditions.
It's been almost a week.
A week since the FBI arrived at Darlene's front door, approximately an hour before she sent me the message, warned me I'd probably be next, they had names, and she was sorry. She loved me. And I needed to get away as quickly as possible.
I remember getting the phone call several minutes later in a cold state of panic, answering to the sound of static background fuzz, then the sound of a familiar voice. His voice.
And then nothing. Next thing I know, I wake up here, on the floor of some old holed up shack in the middle of god knows where, the mountains? All I know is it's fucking freezing, my own breath is coming out in a thick icy mist, and I can't feel my hands.
On the first night, Tyrell says he's got used to this place, and so will I if I want to stay hidden.
And that's about all he's said to me since I got here six days ago. No explanation for how I got here, did I get here myself? Did he find me? Why is he helping me? And why did he disappear like this in the first place? Every time I bring the situation up I'm told to leave it, or do I want to find my own way back to NYC and into the hands of the FBI? I asked him if this is any better, and he ignored me.
My watch says it's 4am as I wake up, muscles stiff and my whole body shivering as I open my eyes, pull the covers over myself and try to ignore the howling wind, the painful cold. I miss the sound of the television at night. The sound of the late night news reports and the early-hour reruns of shitty cancelled sitcoms had made it a little easier to ignore the loneliness, block out the panic as I realise this might be the first week of the rest of my life.
I think about Darlene, try to imagine this whole nightmare as if it is just that. I'm trapped inside a bad dream, and everyone I love and care about is safe back home, so am I, and any minute now I'll wake up…
And then suddenly the silence is broken by the sound of a pained scream. I jump up in bed and half out of my skin and stare across the room into the darkness. I can hear shuffling, writhing, the sound of Tyrell's voice as he moans and mutters something unintelligible over and over.
This is the third time this has happened since I've arrived here.
The writhing and muffled shallow breathing continues. And I'm starting to think the loneliness is getting to me. The desire for human contact, interaction, closeness, anything. Wherever I am and however I got here, Mr Robot obviously didn't book a ticket.
"Tyrell?" I call out into the darkness.
The writhing stops, followed by a silence. He's awake.
I push the covers off myself, step out of bed and across the creaking wood floorboards, feel my way around the room until my hands fall on the gas lantern on the table. I switch it on, and notice the bundled up pile of bedsheets on top of the bed nearby.
He turns around as I reach him, and the light hits his face. Hair stuck to his forehead, his cheeks glistening before he wipes them and glares at me.
"What?" He demands, tries to hide the wavering in his voice. "What do you want?"
"You woke up screaming." I tell him, watch as his pained expression predictably transforms into a sneer, he's laughing at me.
"Perhaps I was dreaming of spending an eternity trapped inside some shithole in the mountains…" He begins.
"…Look... you don't have to…"
"…with someone who seems incapable of giving anyone privacy even without the aid of a computer."
His composure seems to break on the last line, and he turns round, his back facing me.
I don't know what I expected.
"Tyrell…" My loneliness betrays me, speaks for me.
But I know better than to continue. I turn around, switch the lantern off, and climb back into bed.
At 6am, I finally fall back to sleep to the sounds of muffled sobbing.
Note: Thanks to everyone who has read so far, would love to hear your feedback! More to come soon.