The Hotelier

Pt. 14 - Midnight Memories

I tried to avoid Cestria the next few days, just not to trigger my unstable emotions. It was hard, knowing that she's leaving in a day or two, but I decided it was the best for me.

I watched her from afar sometimes, though, and noticed she was looking sad. She didn't come to the hikes, nor the tent. Did her ex bother her? Or was it because of me?

No matter what the reason was, I didn't want to talk to her. Not because it wasn't nice being around her. Not because I didn't have a good time during that thing, which turned out to be our little secret. And not because I didn't like her as a person

It was exactly the opposite. I liked her so much, that if I just got closer to her I felt like I will burn. So much that if I see her smile I felt like I will melt on the place.

But I was scared. Of what? To show my emotions, my true feelings. And mostly, to show my past. Because Lord knows there live dark monsters, which never should be let free...

So I just accepted the fact that I could never have had the thing that my heart truly desired - the lady in my life.

And when the final day of Cestria's and her friends' stay had come I was heartbroken, but still tried to act as nothing had ever happened.

But the thing that hurt me the most was that Cess looked sadder than ever. She tried to hide it, but I could've seen it in her eyes. She was hurt. Hurt, by me.

And I couldn't be more disappointed by myself and by how big of a pussy I can be. But I just didn't feel brave enough. Not after everything that had happened to me... Magdalena was the last drop that spilled the water in my pool of misery. And I didn't feel like letting anyone in.

And when we said our final goodbyes. Cold and emotionless goodbyes. I felt like dying. But something somehow stopped me from murdering myself.

So instead of suffering, I decided to do something I hadn't been doing since ten years ago - I walked home, pored cold scotch in my glass, and lit a cigarette. And Gosh, did it feel good.

I felt the smoke filling my lungs, and felt the memories fill my head again. I tried making smoke circles, just to check if I still got that skill.

I turned on my TV, also something I hadn't been doing in a while, and put on National Geographic HD. There always was something good to watch

But I didn't really pay attention to the TV. I was too busy enjoying the smell of cigarettes filling my nostrils and lungs, while thinking about everything that had happened over the last 25 years.

"Mommy, no!"

"Run, Michael! RUN!"

"But I can't leave you here!"

"Please leave me, Mikey, please! I want you to leave me. Leave and find a home. Find friends and family. And someday, you'll create your own family. And I'm going to watch you from above."

"But I don't want you to be above! I want you to be here with me!"

"Oh, no, he's coming. Just go, Michael, go!"

I felt the first few tears roll down my cheeks as I took a sip from the scotch.

I can never forget this. And I will never forgive myself

I got the old, crappy family picture from the coffee table. I always kept it there so I can never forget how she looked.

I studied it for a bit too long, and didn't notice my strong grip on it until a glass went through my finger after I broke the frame.

"Shit" I hissed and went to wash my hand.

I grabbed a kitchen knife and went on the balcony, and looked at the night sky.

"Are you happy now, mom? Are you happy about me? About who have I become?" I studied the knife and got a better grip on it "because I'm not"

I held onto the knife and slowly brought it to my stomach. I looked at the sky and studied the stars and the clouds.

They were in a very weird shape. If you tilt your head a little it looked like a woman figure. But when I noticed that I just huffed to myself. There was no way she is watching right now.

But what if she is? Nobody came back to say what happens when you die. And I didn't want her to see me stab myself.

But I was in such pain anyways that I didn't care if I hurt myself physically or not. I went back inside to take a look at the picture.

We were so happy there. Especially my mom. Her smile was wide and warm. I missed that smile so much. And her arms were so comfortable to cuddle in... I miss that too.

I just grabbed the knife and didn't think. I aimed for my arm, but couldn't see what I was doing. My vision was blurred by the hot tears, watering my eyes.

I didn't care if I died there. I didn't care if I made a mess on the couch or the floor. I didn't care if my arm hurts after this. I just let my right hand make something on my left arm. I didn't care if it will leave a scar. I just wanted something in memory of my mother... so I just 'drew' what she felt like to me. And after I was done I put the knife down and went for a shower

The cold water was dripping down my skin and the blood was cleaned up from my arm after a while. I looked at the 'tatoo' and... it didn't look like anything. But at least when I see it I'll always remember... she will always be with me