The sun rose to a stormy sky, a haze that refused to disappear - much like
the feeling that seemed to cloud my mind as I awoke, dizzy from the tears
that had fallen before I had moved into restless slumbler.
It had been a night of revelations, a clearing of reasoning.
Sitting up, the first thing I managed to do was look in the mirror across from the bed, my reflection - sad, pathetic - almost lost. Red-rimmed eyes, pale skin revealing faint hints of tear tracks, hair mussed beyond any possible neatness.
I needed a shower. I need - to clear my head. Maybe too much had happened last night. Images that wouldn't go away.
I'd even dreamt of falling from the balcony last night - falling into a pit filled with black rose petals, lost to the rest of the world. It was a dream that had made me jolt awake, frame shaking and covered in the slightest sheen of sweat.
Death.
Someone was going to die soon, and part of me was afraid that it might be me.
Soft footsteps take me to the bathroom, and I close the door, almost silent in my movements - I don't want to wake Randy, who apparently had fallen asleep in the chair beside the bed. I can vaugely remember him saying he was going to stay there until I fell asleep, and...
Well, I imagine maybe he fell asleep before I did.
But as I set the water to near-scalding, breathing in the steam that starts to fill the room, dusting over the mirror.
It's then I hear a door open outside, and tense slightly. A voice. A very - angry voice. Seems like someone's unhappy with the fact that I'm pulling his best friend away from him.
"You need to get away from...that little...Jezebel." Voice flat, but raising in volume, and I hear the handle of the bathroom door jiggle, "She's in here, isn't she? Get out here, bitch..."
I couldn't make a sound, but - I could hear things happening outside. Fighting. A lot of yelling. The sound of someone trying to break down the door.
Then - silence. Security.
"...Hai?" A strained voice - pain. Apparently, the scuffle was worse than it sounded. "Open the door?"
The lock clicks open, but the door stays closed - he gets the hint. "Are you okay?"
It's then the door opens, and I see him, and - I can't help but wince instinctively. First a wince, then - a look of determination. There was blood - bruises starting to form, just -
It simply was distasterous.
And this - this was because of me.
The rain still pitter-pattered against the windows of the hotel room, a rumble of thunder foretelling times ahead.
Storms - are very close indeed.
It had been a night of revelations, a clearing of reasoning.
Sitting up, the first thing I managed to do was look in the mirror across from the bed, my reflection - sad, pathetic - almost lost. Red-rimmed eyes, pale skin revealing faint hints of tear tracks, hair mussed beyond any possible neatness.
I needed a shower. I need - to clear my head. Maybe too much had happened last night. Images that wouldn't go away.
I'd even dreamt of falling from the balcony last night - falling into a pit filled with black rose petals, lost to the rest of the world. It was a dream that had made me jolt awake, frame shaking and covered in the slightest sheen of sweat.
Death.
Someone was going to die soon, and part of me was afraid that it might be me.
Soft footsteps take me to the bathroom, and I close the door, almost silent in my movements - I don't want to wake Randy, who apparently had fallen asleep in the chair beside the bed. I can vaugely remember him saying he was going to stay there until I fell asleep, and...
Well, I imagine maybe he fell asleep before I did.
But as I set the water to near-scalding, breathing in the steam that starts to fill the room, dusting over the mirror.
It's then I hear a door open outside, and tense slightly. A voice. A very - angry voice. Seems like someone's unhappy with the fact that I'm pulling his best friend away from him.
"You need to get away from...that little...Jezebel." Voice flat, but raising in volume, and I hear the handle of the bathroom door jiggle, "She's in here, isn't she? Get out here, bitch..."
I couldn't make a sound, but - I could hear things happening outside. Fighting. A lot of yelling. The sound of someone trying to break down the door.
Then - silence. Security.
"...Hai?" A strained voice - pain. Apparently, the scuffle was worse than it sounded. "Open the door?"
The lock clicks open, but the door stays closed - he gets the hint. "Are you okay?"
It's then the door opens, and I see him, and - I can't help but wince instinctively. First a wince, then - a look of determination. There was blood - bruises starting to form, just -
It simply was distasterous.
And this - this was because of me.
The rain still pitter-pattered against the windows of the hotel room, a rumble of thunder foretelling times ahead.
Storms - are very close indeed.
