The Landlady [ending?]

start&finish.

       "No, my dear," she said. "Only you."

       "That's...nice," Billy replied, since he didn't know what else to say. He tried to offer a grimacing smile in return before turning his eyes away to avoid the landlady's intense stare at his reddening face.

       After looking uncomfortably at the stuffed animals who stared blankly back at him, he stood up out of the discomfort of having a staring contest with corpses. Immediately, he was hit with a wave of nausea, and clutched onto the sofa to retain his balance. Billy squeezed his eyes together in attempt to force away the sudden dizziness. "Are you alright, darling?," he heard.

       Taking a breath, he managed to answer, "I'm afraid I must retire to bed. I'm a bit spent from my trip." He felt fine just a few hours ago. Opening his eyes, he noticed that a frown has appeared on the lady's face.

       "Oh, of course you are. Who was I to keep you up so late? My apologies," she said while setting down her teacup. "You must be exhausted." The landlady got up from the sofa and ushered Billy up the stairs as he dragged along, rubbing his eyes and swallowing the bile that threatened to come up. She showed him to his room once again before putting her clammy, weathered, red-nailed hand on his arm and bidding him goodnight with a sickly sweet smile. He could only nod before he stumbled into the room.

       Billy tiredly loosened his tie then took a large gulping breath of air like a fish for water. Feeling not much better, he undid his belt and threw the ribbon of leather on the ground. 'I must really be tired,' he thought when the room seemed to spin more violently. 'I'll call the Branch Manager tomorrow.' Billy didn't notice that he fell onto the bed after losing his balance, but lost consciousness shortly after. However, he didn't sleep for long.

       He abruptly awoke, falling off the bed onto the cold, hard ground. Billy clutched his chest in pain. Beads of sweat coated his forehead. He felt like he couldn't breathe, so he undid his tie and the top buttons of his Oxford shirt, yet he didn't have the energy to take them off. Billy simply laid on the hardwood floor, staring out into the ebony night, feeling like he was going to die.

       It was a while until he gathered up all his energy that Billy decided to get off the ground. He crawled over to the door, and with effort, managed to pull him himself up. Leading himself against the doorframe, he struggles to keep himself up. Billy sees the landlady in the living room two floors down, petting her stuffed dachshund in dim light. She was humming.

       "Madam," Billy called through his parched mouth. "Would you mind getting me a glass of water?"

       She stopped humming, but continued to stroke the fur of her dead animal. The woman didn't move an inch from her seat, but said, "are you sure you don't want some tea?" She didn't even turn her head.

       "Water," he repeats. "Please."

       It was then when the lady put down her stiff dog and got up from her sofa. She finally looked at Billy, but made no comment about the condition he was in. The soft light from her lamp was the only light that was on, casting unnerving shadows onto one side of her face, while the other was perfectly lit. She had a small, tight-lipped smile on her face. "As you wish, Mr. Weaver."

       The landlady came up a few moments later holding a cup of water in the same teacup Billy drank from earlier. She watched him as he gulped all the water down, spilling some onto the undone tie hanging around his neck. Her gaze doesn't leave him, even when he finished his cup. "More water, my dear?" Billy nodded. The landlady took his teacup and went to her kitchen to fill it. She handed it to him again, but this time he drank it diligently. Whispering a small "thank you", Billy put his head against the doorframe that he was still leaning on.