The Affair

Chapter 23.1 - Blurred Lines

Friday, July 22, 2022, 11:11pm

The blackness seems to pale in subtle flickers, like a call of sun through a thick curtain. He stirs, cheek pushed against a hard surface, wet with drool. Groaning, he rolls onto his back. Both hands cup his forehead, doing little to stop his brain from throbbing against the little needles in his skull.

Vzz-vzzz.

He flinches at the rumble in his pocket. His body flails out, legs kicking, head snapping back just enough to bang against yet another hard surface. The hit only compounds against the pulsing ache.

Finally, he opens his eyes. The first seconds are blurry, but he focuses quickly. It's his home, a few lights lit, ceiling fans whirring gently. He sits up, back resting against the front door of the house.

His tongue shifts behind his teeth, dry and coarse, desperate for water amidst the foul breath of liquor and stale tobacco. He groans as he rubs his eyes. Looking around doesn't do much, finding nothing out of place, no signs of anything nefarious.

A quick series of flashes bombard his thoughts.

The break-in. Zoe's bedroom, and then not Zoe's bedroom. The little girl with the mother.

The black wolf. The gun shots.

Vzz-vzzz.

"Jesus!" he curses, recognizing the buzz. His hand slips into his pocket for his phone, hoping it would be June calling.

But it isn't. It's Fallon calling him, numbers above her name reading 11:11.

His thumb hovers over the red button, mind slurring as the phone vibrates in his palm. June never called back. Not even once.

"Don't do it..." he argues with himself, telling himself she's the reason for this mess. That resolve last only a breath.

He sighs, thumb hitting the green button.

"Hey..." he says dryly.

"Mr. Reiner! "Fallon chirps, loud as ever, "I know I'm not supposed to call around this time... But, umm... Is everything okay, sir?"

He massages a new throbbing spot at his temple. "Um, yeah? I'm okay... I, uhh, think so anyway. Are you okay?"

A small pause over the phone.

"Well... I had a weird feeling. And, like... Falcor—m-my wolf, you know? He just had this look on him like..." She pauses again, searching for the words to not make her sound crazy. Finally, she sighs. "I dunno. I just needed to know you were okay. That's all. I'm s-sorry for bothering you so late."

There's a charm to her voice, that occasional stutter like her tongue trips over itself. And that peaceful innocence in her tone. Nothing fake about it, unlike some predatory women that wield that façade like a poison-tipped dagger.

There's a crackle through the phone—Fallon switching hands maybe, awkward in his lack of conversation.

"Um... okay. I-I'll hang up now... Sorry about today, Mr Reiner," she adds.

A strange emotion follows—pity mostly but mixed with some other desire. She's shameless in her need for him. He really loves that about her. The alcohol sits in his mind like a heavy fog, obfuscating his morals.

"No, darling. You're not bothering me. In fact, I'm, uh, r-really happy you called," he stammers. He's unstable as he stands, stumbling a step but catching himself on the stair rails. "I just wishh you were here right now, bunny... Don't think that y-you're bothering me, kay?"