Lost in the Darkness // Billie Eilish

Part IV

Last night was the first decent night of sleep I've had in a while. Of course, it would have been better if I had someone to sleep adjacent to but I understand her reluctance to do so.

It felt nice to be in a real home. Not a hotel, a home. The room had a warm, sentimental aura, the sheets weren't crisp and cold, the lights weren't fluorescent.

The water from my shower was hot, it pelted and dispersed against my skin in an oddly comforting manner. The mirror was foggy by the end and I was admittedly slightly dizzy.

My hair however, was still unwashed. I was tired and had no desire to do anything extra.

When I woke up this morning, I didn't need to look in the mirror to know I had a half-done birds nest on my head.

I ran my fingers through it and moved it around to make it seem— less worse.

Eventually, I got up and stepped outside the door. Immediately, I was greeted by the sight of Em eating breakfast, accompanied by a large but fluffy dog.

A Bernese mountain dog I think.

When it noticed me, it barked and neared me, sniffing my hands excitedly.

"Hi, baby," I kneeled down and scratched behind its ears before looking up at Em. "I, uh, didn't know you had a dog."

"You don't know many things about me."

"But somehow you know lots about me." I laugh at the irony.

"It's my job." She charms once again as she gets up to pick a plate off the counter and set it on the table.

"For me? You shouldn't have." I joke, placing a hand on my chest.

"I can't let Billie Eilish starve. Your management wouldn't let me here the last of it, hm?"

I sit down and pick up my fork, "I wish that was an exaggeration."

"Do you like your team?" She pries.

"I mean, yeah. I do."

"But?"

"But, they have a job to do. And that job requires bossing me around."

"That requires overworking you? Overbooking? Treating you like a commodity?"

"They have to. They want me to be successful. Yeah, it's hard work but they're just looking out for me."

"No, they lack human empathy."

She makes her way over to the couch and pats the spot beside her, "pojď Mikoláši."

Her dog hurries to the couch and lays his head in her lap.

I turn around in my chair to face her. "What do you have against my team?"

"I don't like how they treat you. I can see it on your face. In our interview yesterday."

"What do you mean?"

"You seem miserable. You're always tired I presume, you have constant headaches and stomaches. I could tell you were faking a smile in the beginning of our interview and I appreciate you wanting to please me, but I'd rather you not have to put on a show. I wish it was authentic. You went home with a stranger because you did not want to spend another night in a hotel room. Does this not worry you as well?"