Storyteller

Chapter 2

Tim POV:

My body aches, as I slowly sit up in bed. The room seems a little different than I remember. It's larger, and darker than the room I remember. The curtains block out whatever sunlight there is, making the room feel even more stuffy than it should.

I reach painfully to turn on the lamp on the beside table. When the light switches on, my eyes sting. The sensation makes me a little sick to my stomach. I must've gotten wasted last night. Of course, that's only my first concern that rushes to light.

My knuckles are badly bruised, which makes me more anxious than anything. I don't remember anything that happened last night. I know we had a show, but I don't remember even heading to the arena.

Faith is nowhere to be seen, another thing to be concerned about. I slowly stumble out of bed, and toward the main part of the room. The number painted in white over the door reads Room 273. That can't be right. Faith and I checked into 741 yesterday morning.

I throw on a pair of jeans and a t-shirt, grab a cup of coffee, and head to the elevator. I push the button for the seventh floor. As I travel five floors up, I'm trying my hardest to figure out what happened last night. How much did I drink?

The metal doors open up to the seventh floor, which is eerily quiet at the moment. I find the room number, and slide the card. The door beeps twice, before opening up.

I walk in and find Chris in the small kitchen area. She's making coffee and eggs. Her eyes land on me, and I can tell by her glare that I fucked up. I try to ignore her completely, since this is technically my room, and head back toward the bedroom.

"What the hell do you think you're doing?" Chris says, following me. I walk into the bedroom, and freeze, my chest crippling up.

Faith lays on her side in bed. She hugs a pillow tightly in her arms while she's wrapped up in the sheets. Her legs stick out from about knee down, while her toes curl as she cries. She shakes, while letting out little howls. I can tell by the way she's crying that she's been crying for a while, likely hours. She doesn't pick her head up to see who's entered the room, she just remains in her distressed state, crying in bed.

"You need to leave." Chris directs loudly, while Faith sniffles. I can't peel my eyes off of her, while I try to identify what's wrong. I shake my head, refusing to leave. I step closer, causing Chris to grow even more aggravated with me.

Faith finally looks over at us, causing my chest to fall frozen. Her face is covered with tears and running makeup. She then, spotting me, buries her head in the pillow that she's holding. She cries harder, causing me to panic.

"What happened?" I ask, before cringing at my words. Chris stares at me with her jaw dropped slightly. She shakes her head slowly in disgust, before turning and walking out. "Chris!" I shout, becoming aggravated that nobody's answering me.

"You fucking hit her in front of twenty thousand people... And your children, and your mother... " She yells, sounding infuriated. The news seems unreal. I wouldn't do that, no matter how intoxicated I was.

I walk over to the side of the bed Faith is facing, and kneel down beside the bed. She watches me, before lifting her head off the pillow a tiny bit. That's when I see the purple and green bruise on her cheek, with a scabbing cut in the center. It's swollen, and causing her eye a little discomfort. I grab her hand and squeeze it tightly. She bites her lip, and continues to cry, but a little lighter than before. I look up at Chris, who stands in the doorway with her arms crossed. She's wanted me out of Faith's life for a while now...

"Can we have a moment?" I ask Chris, my voice sounding rough and quiet. She rolls her eyes, before shaking her head.

"No. You'll just punch her again." She spits out like fire, feeling as if her hands were wrapped around my neck. I look at her, pleading, before she finally decides to leave. She leaves the door open, however, in case something happens.