20 Days In His Bedroom

Chapter Eleven

"Feel pity? Really? That was all?"
I stare at him, a little stunned.
I don't know why I'm surprised.
But him feeling pity for me?
That's not appealing. Not even close.

"Okay," I mutter, finishing the two slices of pizza while he lounges on the bed, watching TV.

"I'm gonna... you know, go sleep," I say, gesturing toward the bathroom.

"Night," he calls after me.

"Night," I answer quietly.

I curl up on the towel bed I made on the floor. Sleep takes me quickly.

⸻

When I wake up, the first thing I do is brush my teeth with a fresh toothbrush I found on the bathroom counter.
This hotel really has everything I'm missing.

Still... I feel awful.
I didn't find Mom or Dad.
It still feels like a nightmare.

Who am I? Really—who am I?
I'm staying in a hotel room with a stranger. That's not me. It's never been me.

You're not sleeping in the same bed with him, my subconscious says.
Still, this isn't me. I'd never even imagine being in a situation like this.
But I had no choice. Where else could I go?

Alex hasn't shown up yet. If she does, I'll ask to stay with her.
God, I hope she comes.

I unlock the bathroom door and step out.
Nial is still asleep.
The TV is still on, so I turn it off quietly.

"Good morning," he says, eyes still closed.

"Uh... good morning," I reply. "Did I wake you?"

"Yes," he teases.

"Oh, I'm sorry."

"I'm just messing with you. It's okay," he says, sitting up and smiling.

"Aha." I give a weak smile.

"What?" he asks, watching me.

"Nothing."

"So... you good?" he smirks.

His smirk is... kind of attractive, I guess.

"Not really." I roll my eyes.

"Why not?"

"Why?" I repeat, frustrated. "Because I'm lost. That's why."

"Lost?" he looks confused. Why does that confuse him?

"Yes. I don't know where Mom and Dad are. And I'm stuck like this—stuck in this hotel, this room..." I frown. What did he expect?

"Stuck? You're not stuck."

"I am," I say quietly, looking down at my fingers.

"You can leave anytime you want. I'm not locking the door, see?" he snaps.

"I know. It's not about you. It's just... I don't have anywhere else to go."

He scoffs. "Well, I'm sorry you're forced to stay with someone like me."

"I didn't mean it like that," I say, frustrated.

"Whatever." He huffs and heads to the bathroom.

When he comes out, I face him.

"Why are you mad at me?" I ask.

"I'm not," he says, sitting down and turning the chair toward me.

"Nial..." I start—but then I see it again. He's trying not to laugh.

He always does this when I say his name. It's like the tenth time.

"Nial, what's so funny about your name?" I ask instead.