Regeneration

Chapter 8 - Grief

The stranger walked over to one of the doors.

I watched curiously as he put his ear against the door.

Moving his head away, he pulled a knife  made me feel a bit uneasy.

He stuck it at an angle between the crease of the door, next to where the knob was.

He straightened the knife using it to press the latch flat against the side of the door slowly pulling it open with the other hand.

He did it with such ease, I wondered if he was a criminal.

"Stay here," he said handing me the knife probably to protect myself while he went inside. I stretched out my hand and took it.

The stranger then turned and disappeared into the dark room.

I considered if I should run away at the thought of staying alone with a stranger who had a gun and didn't seem to have a problem with killing two people less than an hour ago.

"It's safe," he said coming back to stand at the door.

Was it really?

He held out his hand towards me, I looked at his palm for a moment before I realized he was waiting for me to return the knife.

Placing it in his hand I walked inside.

The room looked frozen in the 1970's, with tacky patterned wallpaper and old wood furniture. Two beds separated by matching nightstands made up the room. My eyes traveled to the chipping white door opposite to the beds, presumably the bathroom door. 

He set his bag down at the foot of the bed closest to the door, and I assumed that was the bed he had chosen to sleep on.

The rain had eased now with only a soft pitter-patter on the roof. He studied me for a moment before he moved to the door, exiting the room.

A few minutes later, I heard the creak of the door The stranger entered the room holding a folded pile of clothes.

A nervous sensation crept under my skin as he walked towards me. His tall frame stopped a foot in front of me; he dropped the clothes on the bed without saying a word.

"Thanks," I spoke.

He merely nodded his head. His movements were tense and serious.

I fliched slightly at the sound of the door shutting.

Walking over to an armchair at the corner of the room, the stranger pushed it in front of the door, our only way in or out.

I picked up the clothes and went into the bathroom. Splashing some water on my face, I tried to collect myself.

Am I really safe here with him?

I turned on the shower, ravishing in the warmth that the hot water provided against my cold, clammy skin.

It wasn't enough to wash away the icy pain that was stabbing at my heart.

My eyes sqeezed shut, trying to keep the tears from escaping. It was no use. I winced, the pain overwhelming me now that I was alone.

I was back at the evacuation point again. It was happening all over again in my mind. I felt myself go weak and leaned against the wall, resting my head on the tile.

I wrapped my arms around myself as my sobs crescendo into cries. My head  pounded from a lack of oxygen as I tried to stiffle the sound of my crying. 

I was in here too long, I had to pull myself together. With sniffles and tired eyes, I stepped out of the shower.

I picked up the dry clothes and examined them, realizing that he must have stolen them from the store at the front of the motel. Who would even come back to check now?

The pile contained shorts, a pair of jeans and a top. I changed into the shorts and top after removing the tags.

Taking my phone out of my wet jeans' pocket, I used a fresh towel from the cabinet to dry it.

Hopefully, it survives.

I hung my clothes to dry on the towel bar and grasped the necklace from where I placed it upon entering.

I reached for the doorknob, but stop short. I decided if this person wanted to harm me they would have by now. I twisted the doorknob and stepped out of the bathroom.

He turned at the sound, our eyes meeting for a brief moment.

Feeling uncomfortable, I tore my gaze away from him, looking at a random item in the room as I made my way over to my bed.

I was still uneasy about staying here with him, but my options were limited. He walked stoically across the room without looking at me and disappeared into the bathroom with a soft click of the door.

The mattress sank beneath my weight as I sat down and shifted to the middle.

Laying my head on the pillow, I wished I was in my own bed. Maybe if I willed it hard enough i would be back there and this nightmare would be over. Staring at the ceiling, I tried to relax. The sound of running water came from the bathroom. The sound, strangely soothing.

My mind was in disbelief at how I ended up here, alone with a stranger in a motel room that we had broken into.

Just two days ago, Mom, Nylah, and I were cheering Nathan on at his match.

Inevitably, my mind flickered back to Mom and Nylah. Fresh tears immediately welled up in my eyes as they slipped silently. I held the elegant letter K pendant in my grasp, resting it near to my heart.

Katherine, my mother, had such a beautiful name. It suited her because she was a beautiful woman, inside and out.

I squeezed my eyes shut as memories of her and Nylah flooded my mind.

The sound of the bathroom door opening brought me back to the present. I slowly turned away from his direction, obscuring my tear-stained face.

I wiped my eyes, turning to study him. He was rubbing the towel against his head, drying his dark hair with one hand. He hung the towel on a chair before walking across the room to flick the lights off. The room was now immersed in darkness, only a sliver of moonlight spilled inside through a crease in the curtain.

I watched his dark form collapse onto his own bed. I wondered what hell he been through tonight.

Exhausted from crying my eyes out, my head ached.

Turning away from him, I laid there in the stillness willing my heart and mind to numb itself.

Something very wrong was happening and I needed to stabilize myself in order to deal with it. A memory of my father surfaced in my mind. It was from when I was six. My dad was teaching me how to ride my bike without the training wheels for the first time. I kept falling before I could get to the end of the street. I remember being so frustrated I couldn't stop crying, but I wanted to keep going. He said, "Not everything's going to be easy Hailey, and I know you're frustrated, but remember that you are in control, of this bike and how you choose to approach this challenge. It's okay to cry, but at some point, you have to put on a brave face and show this challenge who's in control." I wished he was here now to remind of this himself, but the memory was all I had for now. My father and brother were still out there. I would find them.