In the Night

6 • A Ghost Living in Wounded Skin

S U N N I

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Trigger warning

I lay lazily on the chair beside the pool, the hot European sun frying my skin. I had on a pair of cute red sunglasses and a bikini, my hair up and out of my face.

It was around two pm. Simon was with some of his friends in town while I stayed put at our motel. He never really let me out in public much, not unless it was a necessity.

The weeks coming up to the Cannes Film Festival had  been quiet. There were barely any physical fights between Simon and I, and there was no obvious evidence left on my body of his abuse. I think he knew that I would be more exposed to the media this week, so he relaxed on his punishments.

The motel here in Cannes was stunning. The pool was located in the middle, with the rooms built around it like a gigantic square. It was all pastel blues and ocean pearl colours, with the occasional splash of greenery from the line of palm trees and shrubs that littered the space sporadically.

The pool wasn't too crowded to my surprise. There was only a few people like me, sitting on recliner chairs, and the bar tender. Even he deemed it too difficult to function properly underneath the hot European sunlight. The air was bubbling with heat, the crystal blue pool looking more and more appealing as the temperature inclined.

I stood up from my seat, my bones cracking as I'd laid there for a while, and stepped gingerly towards the pool. I dipped my toes into the glimmering water, the liquid cold and refreshing on my bare feet.

Without another thought, I submerged myself. The water rushed past me, wetting every inch of my sun baked skin. I was sure that I had a sunburn, especially once my skin began stinging from the impact against the surface of the pool.

I opened my eyes under the water. My vision was hazy, but I could still see the shapes of other people's legs as they leant against the side of the pool, margaritas in hand with children in floaters swimming tenaciously.

I lifted my head from under the water, hot air seeping into my lungs as I breathed deeply. I glanced at my wristwatch, my heart beating as I looked at the time. Simon was due back at the hotel in an hour. I still had to shower and get ready for tonight at the festival. I climbed out of the large pool and wrapped my fluffy towel around my body, making my way towards my hotel room.

The rooms were more like large apartments, with full kitchenettes and a balcony that would open up to the pool if you were on the bottom floor. My room was upstairs, the 'Honeymoon Suite', as Simon referred to it as.

I walked away from the pool and through the lobby, my towel falling off my body as I hurried to make it back in time. As I rounded a corner, my sunglasses fell from their perch on my head. I rolled my eyes and bent over to pick them up. As I was standing back up, another body ran into me, knocking me back.

"Shit, sorry." The anonymous voice murmured, hurrying past me without even a second glance. I barely had time to look at the strangers face as he took off towards he front desk of the hotel, a determined attitude in his march.

I turned and watched him chat to the woman behind the desk. He was tall, with dark hair and tanned skin. I recognised a classic navy Ralph Lauren polo and white Capri pants on his long body, with trendy suede shoes to match.

I then realised how late I was, which snapped me out of my stupor. I tumbled back the direction I was headed, towards the elevator at the end of the hall, not looking back at the stranger. The elevator doors opened immediately, and I stood inside impatiently, my heart hammering from nerves. I didn't want Simon to be angry with me for being late to the first day of the Cannes Film Festival.