Orange On The Bed ✓

15

Kristoffe St. George

Bored came over me without March. I choicelessly sat on my bed waiting for nothing. I just can't understand him so much. He's extremely craving for sex hence he wanted anyone when I told him I don't want to. But it's weird. It's very weird that he's literally inside me though he's looking for somebody else.

I want to explode.

I will rip whoever was that person he fucked when he came back. Imagine, we just had sex recently and he wanted another sex to happen once again. Moreover, he scammed me.

Meanwhile, in my perspective... I am anxiously deflating. Why? Because I felt like a hoe. Slutter than the bitches in the high school. Not a fleshjack, you know... But maybe it is... Close from that.

Somehow, a knock gently erupted in the door. "Who's it?" I asked loudly.

"Room service..."

Oh, that old lady? What's the deal with her coming back? Maybe she has forgotten something. I walk on the door to open up the way for her but my phone ring and March Dofferman's name clung to my phone's screen.

Although, I open the door before accepting the call. "Hello madam. Come in. I'll just gonna take this call." I told her as she stayed standing inside, beside the doorstep. I proceeded back to the beds for a private call.

"Hello? What's up, Kristoffe?"

"Hi, March. Having enough fun with your slut?" I retaliated with an irritating question.

"What? No. I'm sitting with a sheriff now and he said there's an escaped prisoner invaded this hotel. Can you lock the door for me?" He's maybe bluffing again.

"Fuck off, you just want to poison my brain again, and take advantage of it as soon as you got me off guard." I roll my eyes.

"I'm being serious. Listen to me, Kristoffe. That room service lady earlier? She's a serial killer from their town. Did you remember the scar and cut finger she has? I am not being judgemental, but think of it." With that, my brows furrowed. I look at the woman who is now eyes trailed on the window, sitting on the floor. I can clearly see the vertical scar lining on his cleavage part, and that the missing pinky and index finger in his right hand is perfectly visible.

My heart skipped a bit. I'm too dumb to think that this situation can be taken advantage of, right? So... Does that mean they're really saying the truth? "I-I think, I'm al-already too late?" I stuttered.

"Why??? How???" His voice cracked into frantic surges, as then police's siren echoed into the phone... They're not lying.

I'm doomed... "She-she's are-ready inside..." I continue stammering.

"What??? Of all rooms in the hotel, she chooses ours???? Wait, I'm coming." Then the line drops before I could hear another voice asked March what is he going to do.

On the other hand, I. I became cold-handed. I started sweating hastily. And my bones started breaking. I look at the lady and she was just staring at the window like she's in a deep reverie. But... Something was in it...

Some arcane past.

The glittery shine inside her pupils as her tears suddenly began falling. Causing my heart to sting viciously. My bravery, my fear, and the force of nature dissolved to be replaced by a human kind of love.