AT YOUR MERCY

4. What On Earth Have I Eaten?

As I woke up I felt sore, my muscles and joints protesting at the smallest movement. My stomach churned, cramped and made noises as if I had overindulged in alcohol. My head spun as I sat up in the bed.

As I tried to blink the dizzy feeling away I slowly looked over myself. I still wore my clothes from yesterday, not even my shoes I had remembered to take of. I looked around the small room and saw my expensive coat, laying in a messy bundle on the floor next to the door. Panicked I hurried out of the bed to pick it up and put it on a hanger.

Carefully I hung it on the sole stud that were on the wall and smoothed out the creases on the arms of the coat. It was the first piece of clothing I had bought since I moved to my current apartment. Beside the price, which I had never before paid that much for a piece of clothing, it had also become a symbol of me trying to pick my life up again.

What was I thinking? I thought to myself and gently folded the neck of it correctly.

I sat down on the edge of the bed and removed my shoes. It was still dark outside, and my tired state told me it was the middle of the night. Slowly I put my head in my hands, and tried to lessen the headache that roared. My stomach made yet another loud rumble. Why am I feeling this horrible?

Next thing I know the rustle and noice from an incoming train could be felt in the small hotel room. The shaking of the ground affected me quickly, and I am suddenly running into the small bathroom. Ripping the door open I fall to my knees just as I hurled into the toilet. My stomach twisted and turned, and i could barely keep myself upright.
My eyes teared up, and i could both feel and hear my pulse in my ears.
I rested my head on the toilet seat and took a few deep breaths. Everything seemed to blur and move right in front of my eyes, and somehow I couldn't stop thinking of some soft grey material. I must be loosing my mind.

I cast a look to the small shower behind me. Well obviously. I thought before slowly stripping of my clothes.

When I came back out to my suitcase I grabbed a fresh outfit. Barely managing to get it on, my arms felt heavy and knees weak. What on earth have I eaten?

I sat on the edge of the bed and massaged the sides of my head. My wet hair weighing down heavily on me. I tried recalling what happened yesterday. I hadn't been drinking, had I?

I remembered the chaos on the square in the town centre, I remember finally reaching the small sidestreet. But after this, it seemed so far away. I couldn't even remember how I had found my way back.

Where are my glasses?! I suddenly realized that I wasn't wearing them. I hastly felt around the bed, and breathed a sigh of relief when I found them next to the pillow.

I put them on and looked back towards the pillows. The bed was a mess. Amongst the white duvet and sheets, I now noticed a dark grey material.

I grabbed it and pulled it out. A scarf?
I did not own a scarf like this. As I pulled all of the material out and held it between my hands in front of me. The world seemed to slow around me as the memories hit me, just like the trains rushing by outside the hotel.

The tall and broard man, the allyway on the sidestreet, him holding me there, the feeling of being more intoxicated than I had ever felt before.

He had followed me home. I started hyperventilating and my mind clouded with the worst possible scenarios. Had he stalked me? Had he drugged me? What information had I given him?

Then the reality hit me. He knows where I am staying.

Fearing for my own saftety I hurried to throw all my belongings into the suitcase. I stumbled over my own feet and yanked everything in there without the slightest of cares. I threw on my coat, grabbed the suitcase and slammed the door on my way out. I scrambled down the stairs, my suitcase loudly bumping into the walls and railing.

I threw the keys on the desk, along with more than enough money for my stay, no receptionist were to be seen at this time of day. It was still night and the streetlights dimly lit up the small sidewalk.

As I reached the busy street, I caught a taxi nearby. It gently pulled up next to me and I yanked the door open, throwing my suitcase into the backseat.

"Hvorhen?" The driver said with a yawn.

"Sorry I don't understand. Can you take me to a hotel, somewhere a long way from here please." I could hear the shaking of my voice, and I hugged the suitcase to me.

"In Copenhagen or...?" He asked now more awake and turned towards me with his eyebrows furrowed. His accent was thick, like most danes. Though they spoke the language quite well, their accent always peeked through.

"Doesn't matter. Just far away." I said lowly as tears gathered in my eyes.