The Last Page

I

HERS

I woke up, the sweet sunlight illuminated the room. My sheets reflected the light, like clouds. My head pounded. Like the loud bells in the pits of hell, worshipping the devil himself. I managed to get out of bed and found my heels still on my feet and my dress for last night still on me.

So that was a good thing.

I sighed, resting my head in my hands, I wished I could forget my drunken run-in with the man who was passed out on my couch, mere steps away from me.

I remembered every bit, every piece of last night. And it made my stomach twist.

I could have been killed yesterday, and the reason was on my couch.

I wish I hadn't brought him home. Maybe then, I wouldn't worry about talking or seeing him today.

The millions of prayers, asking to bring him back. And maybe, I thought. The faint memories of him were enough,

 I couldn't see him again.

I couldn't see him, knowing he wasn't going to stay again.

I let the silent tears flow down my lashes and to the ground.

What was I supposed to do now?

Going back to sleep wasn't an option.

fuck it

I got up, walking on my cool marble tiles towards the kitchen.
Finding myself an aspirin. Two aspirins and gulped them down with some water.

I opened the fridge and saw leftover pizza slices, with 4 slices staring at me.

I microwaved them, hoping that the beeps could wake him up. Saving me the trouble.

I kept peeking from my kitchen, looking at his large body, sleeping almost lifelessly on my couch.

I loved my couch.

Sighing, I kept another aspirin and some water on the coffee table and sat on the edge, which had been surprisingly left uncovered.

I patted his shoulder and shook him awake.
He took a deep breath before opening his eyes, giving me a glare for waking him up until he realized.

his eyes widened and he froze. Staring at me, speechless.

He Didn't Remember

I didn't know if that was good or bad news, but I knew that right now. We both needed something in our stomachs.

I gave him time to process, staring maybe a minute too long into his eyes before making my way back to the kitchen.

I plated the pizza, going back outside to see him sitting, with his head in his hands, just like i was a while ago.

"here," I said, setting the plates down.
His head immediately snapped to me.

"Mee-"
"Maria," I cut him off.
I changed my name to Maria when I moved here, after my parents' death, everything changed. I became an easy target to targetting people.

So I changed it.

And after all I also didn't want to give him the satisfaction of saying it.
It felt nice, that he didn't have the consent to say that name that was once almost his.

"Maria," he said, but it came out as a question

I sat beside him. Looking at the black screen of my TV.

"yup. Maria," I confirmed.

The room fell silent after that, except for our breaths, all we could hear was a loud, cold silence.