Dancing With Strangers

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I slept soundly, no dreams to be had. The bed was uncomfortable, but it served well to sleep on. When I woke, I expected it to be morning but found the sky still dark. Voices from downstairs drifted up and faint snores came through the walls. There was the clinking of drink glasses, laughter of men and serving girls who shared in their jokes, and every so often there was the creaking of a bed and a grunt. Such thin walls, I thought. The air was cool due to the open window set at the foot of the bed which showed the night sky full of stars that shone like diamonds. Even the ocean was in view; its depths dark and shining as if it were chiseled from onyx.

My body ached to stretch, which I happily obliged and stood onto the cold wooden floor that could have used a dusting. The boards creaked as I walked to the chair by the door holding my clothes. Mark had sat in this chair, I thought and felt a nagging feeling of guilt. "No," I told myself sternly, "he doesn' deserve no apology." But my mind kept bidding me to do so. Reluctantly, I sighed and dressed so I could go and find Mark to make apologies for my....rude behavior.

The halls were empty when I exited, some doors with light shining through the bottom while others were dark. Unfortunately, I did not know where Mark's room really even was, which led me downstairs to ask the Inn Keep if he knew where he was roomed. Some of the men turned to look as I passed with the detestable looks that made my very skin crawl. As if I had never put the dress back on in the first place. The room smelled of alcohol, beer, and sweat. All as repulsive as the last. A man stood, reeking of all the above and leered at me with rotted teeth and grabbing hands. In response, I reached to the table at my left, grabbed a mug and smashed it over his head; his new head trauma led to his crumbling to the ground and a roar of laughter.

When I found the Inn Keep, he was an elderly male with a haggard look about him and long wisps of grey hair. His voice was gruff and bony fingers shaky as he pointed me in the right direction and I departed in a hurry. No need to stay in that room longer than I needed to be.

I climbed the steps to the second floor again, going down the hall to the next steps and landed on the third floor. It was much quieter here than the other floors. So quiet you could hear the breathing, almost. The only noise besides the shallow breaths was the sounds of grunts and a few giggles as I drew closer to the door. My brows furrowed in confusion. He couldn't possibly be up at this hour, it was unlikely even though it was close to morning.

The door was a dark, Cyprus wood that had grown worn over the years of use and the sea air drafting through the open windows. It held signs of abuse and repeated repairing, even the handle was missing, a knotted rope slipped through to replace it. If this was the door, I was mortified to see the room. I moved to push it open then thought better. He at least knocked before entering my room. My fingers rapped once then I pushed the door open, all sounds from inside stopping.

The door creaked open in a darker room, my eyes taking a second to adjust. "Mark?" I called into the dark. Then, a girl came into view with blonde hair falling from the bun atop her head and her thin dress half off her body.

"Can I 'elp you?" She asked, her tone girl like, her eyes dark and passive.

"No," I blinked in surprise, "I must have the wrong room, I'll g-"

"Kera?" His familiar voice stopped me, drawing my eyes to the bed where Mark lay, another girl leaned nakedly on his bare chest. His eyes were wide, mouth open after being caught off guard.

My teeth snapped shut and my lips pursed, "I guess you don need no consoling from me. I'll jus go back to my room," I ground out slowly. Besides from being embarrassed, I felt almost hurt. Stupid, I thought and turned, slamming the door behind me.

All I heard was him yelling at them to get off, a thud on the floor, and footsteps. I didn't give enough time for him to come out and stop me. There wasn't anything left to be said after that. My bare feet carried me swiftly to the stairs, down them and back to the still full room of drunks. This would be the best place, harder to search me out.

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