Rogue Standing

One

Get up.

The bathroom was still steamy from her shower by the time Mary's eyes fluttered open. She blinked, pushing her damp brown hair from her face as she took in her surroundings. A soft draft of cool air from the open door occasionally brushed against her bare legs, the familiar space of her motel room visible through the doorway.

Oh, she thought, giving a sigh as she gruffly rose onto her feet from where she was sat besides the toilet. How long have I been out?

Roughly, about an hour and a half, her mates voice breathed through their link and her heart immediately fluttered.

Wiping her hands against her green spaghetti strap, Mary retreated from the bathroom, slowly, and gazed around the room expectedly. Where are you? She asked him, suspicious.

I'm away on business remember? He chuckled, You've always been pretty forgetful.

Mary frowned, pushing up the window blinds as she peered out the glass. It was snowing, and for some reason the sight made her stomach churn. She took a step back, rubbing her head as a faint headache made way.

Yanking up the pair of black leggings from the floor, she pulled them on before sitting on the edge of the bed to tug on her boots. She froze afterwards, suddenly sitting up straight as her eyes stared hard at the floor. I miss you, she tried, but to her dismay, her mate did not respond this time.

She rubbed her lips together, her vision unfocusing as the room flashed twice. Mary please, a voice, much like her own, boomed within her skull, and evidently, the headache beating at her head worsened to an unbearable pounding. I'm just trying to help you!

"Shut up!" Her yell rasped against the room's walls and desperate, she slapped her hands over her ears. "Shut up I don't want to hear it!"

Mary-

With her face twisting into a heavy glower, her body jolted as she shot up and spun, slamming her foot against the side of the bed. It scratched loudly across the wooden floor before smashing against the wall and with unstable strain, she found herself fighting the urge to further her aggression.

She gripped a fistful of her hair as she pulled her eyes away from the frail bed frame. "Air" she concluded hoarsely. "I just need to get some fucking air."

And with that said, she turned around, quickly heading towards the door as she snatched up her jacket and a wad of cash on her way out. She emerged onto the upper floor of the motel, a slim black railing barricading the drop to ground level, and offering view of the town below. The sun was high in the sky, it's bright rays warming her arms before she began to tug her jacket on, only to stop midway.

It was hot.

Hurried cars took to the streets, and people of all shapes and sizes bustled the shops and restaurants lining the sidewalk. Most wore flip flops, and the joggers that did appear, barely wore clothes on their sweaty bodies. Butterflies danced on lively flowers, and the street cats took to the pavement to bask and sleep under the sun.

Mary blinked. Where am I? she thought to herself, deciding against the black jacket and instead, tying it around her waist.

She descended the stairs to her right, walking backwards for a moment to catch a glimpse of the beat down motel name. Wavington's Stay, the huge bland sign read, and confused, Mary scratched the top of her head, turning around to stare at the lively town again. It felt familiar, though her blank mind did nothing to help conjure up any known memory of the place.

But she left the motel's parking lot without a second thought, joining the busy folk on the sidewalk as her feet unconsciously led her forward. Wavington. The people around all seemed to know each other, and from the looks of it, the town itself was small, almost secluded even.