Ghosts

4) Unpleasant Memories

I didn't notice how much time had gone past until the sun rays had begun creeping up the wall from the window to my left, the chill from the cold metal I was leaning against seeping through the thin material on my back. I had been leaning against the pole, sitting with my legs pressed against my chest as I tried to process my situation, absorbed in the thoughts in my head for... hours. I slowly rose from the concrete, my legs tensed from being folded for so long. I unconsciously rung my hands together, the plastic tugging at the skin at my wrists as I wandered across the small room to the doorway to the bathroom. Hesitating briefly at the doorway, I listen for sounds in the warehouse that would alert me to Booth's presence. Not hearing anything, I enter the bathroom, taking the opportunity to empty my bladder and freshen myself up as much as possible. Venturing back out, I move over to my suitcase strewn against the wall next to the mattress, and sort through my clothes, looking for something warmer. Thankful that I had packed for the fickle mountain weather at the cabin, I pull out a thick winter coat and my warmest pair of joggers, before changing out of my jeans and shrugging the coat over my shoulders as best as I could with my hands bound.

I shift my weight to the right, sitting on the mattress on the floor, and bring my legs up, resting my head on my knees again, as my thoughts drift over my memories of Booth...

New Year's Eve, 2014

Booth was...finicky. Despite how long Garrett and I had spent working with him, trying to gain access to the information we needed, he far from trusted us. Garrett less so. We did, however, know that he had a big deal coming up, so we thought we would make an appearance at his New Year's Eve Party...

The red fabric of the dress I am wearing hugs my body, making me shiver in Chicago's winter chill. I subconsciously pull on the hem, as I hobble in the matching heels on my feet, leaning my weight into Garrett as we walk up the stairs to Booth's place. Once we get inside, we mingle, our undercover identities' taking over our instincts. As I am chatting with Booth's associates, I notice Booth stumbling up the stairs out of the corner of my eye. Making a split-second decision, I dump the glass containing the drink I had barely touched on the coffee table and excuse myself from the conversation, before following, making eye contact with Garrett to let him know where I was going. I reach the top of the stairs just as Booth enters the room at the end of the hall. My heels echo on the wooden floor, blending into the music pounding downstairs. I knock on the door, entering when I hear Booth call out. As I walk through the doorway into what I presume to be his bedroom, I find him staggering out of the bathroom. The closer he gets to me, the stronger the smell of booze becomes, seeping from his clothes and slowly filling my nostrils. I can't help but shudder, as a feeling of anxiety travels up my spine, the closer he gets.

He opens his mouth and begins to speak, the slur in his voice barely allowing me to comprehend the words that come out of his mouth,

"Kelly...! What... brings you...up here?".

He is uncomfortably close now. I have to push my unease down, as I reply,

"I... uh... - there is a beat of silence as he runs his hand up my forearm - came to talk to you, Ronny. About... next week,".

His face turns stony almost instantly.

"What have I told you about bringing up business, huh?", he growls, before attempting to turn around and walk over to the bed, the alcohol slowing his reflexes. Suddenly, he spins on his heel and his hand makes contact with my cheek. Before I have a chance to react to the sharp sting on my face, his hand reaches out and grabs me by the throat, dragging me across the room to the bed. Any time I try to struggle out of his grasp, his hand tightens, the alcohol seemingly not affecting his strength. When he lets go, I cough, struggling to refill my lungs with oxygen, barely in time for his knuckle to make contact with my left cheek just below my left eye. He shoves me backward, my legs making contact with the mattress and forcing me to lay awkwardly on the bedspread. I try to shuffle backward away from him, but he continues to move closer, his hands grasping my legs to prevent me from moving.