Meet me at 1 AM

Chapter 4

Killer, killer, killer.

Blood, so much blood. Blood on my hands, on my clothes, on my face. I had shot him directly in the head without blinking. A monster, that is what I am. A monster, that is what I always will be.

***

I woke up slowly, my head pounding and my leg aching. I was lying on a makeshift bed in a dimly lit room. I tried to sit up, but a wave of dizziness washed over me and I fell back onto the pillow.

As my eyes adjusted to the darkness, I realized I was underground, in some sort of basement. 

The room was small and cramped, with bare concrete walls and a low ceiling. The only source of light was a small lamp on the nightstand, casting a dim glow over the room. The air was musty and damp. The bed was simple with a thin mattress and a threadbare blanket. A small table and chair stood in the corner, with a few books stacked on it. The floor seemed cold and hard, with a rough texture.

There were no windows, no way to tell the time of day or the weather outside. It was completely sealed off from the world, the only sound coming from the hum of the lamp and the occasional creak of the bed as I shifted.

Despite its Spartan appearance, the room was clean and well-maintained. It was clear that someone had put thought and care into making it comfortable for me. But still, the room couldn't shake off the feeling of being underground, sealed off from the world, and it made me feel uneasy.

I looked down at my leg and saw that it was wrapped in bandages, the wound clearly healing. My clothes had been changed, I was now wearing a simple black t-shirt and mid-thigh sweatpants. Had someone seen me naked? Had cleaned off the blood?

My eyes fell on my date standing at the foot of the bed, his gaze fixed on me. He looked worried or maybe I was just hallucinating. I tried to sit up, but the pain in my leg was too much. I winced and fell back against the pillow.

I couldn't quite grasp what had happened. The memories of the night before were hazy, and I couldn't shake off the feeling of fear even though I encountered worse. I looked at him, trying to read his expression, but he was inscrutable.

He was a mystery, a puzzle that I couldn't solve. Was he my savior or my captor? I couldn't tell. All I knew was that I was trapped in this underground bunker, injured and at the mercy of a man I didn't know.

The guy could sense that I was uncomfortable and he came closer to me. He brushed his fingers softly over my cheek, and I flinched back, was not prepared for his touch, gentle or not.

"How are you feeling?" he asked.

I tried to speak, but my throat was dry and my words came out as a croak. He quickly handed me a glass of water and I drank greedily. "Where am I?" I asked, my voice still hoarse.

He looked at me for a long moment before speaking. "I know this is hard for you," he said. "But you need to trust me. You're in a safe place, and I'm taking care of you. I promise you'll be able to leave soon."

I scoffed. "So I wake up, shot and with someone else's clothes on, somewhere underground and I should trust you? Fuck, you dragged me in some drama of yours, I got almost killed and besides, I don't even know your name." My face heated, but not out of shyness or some bullshit. No, I got angry because he was so nonchalant, so ignorant to the situation. 

He should have brought me to a hospital and leave me there, leave me to my fate until the police would come and take me, lock me up for a murder I didn't want to commit.