Indefinite

eight.

"No way!" I laughed as he told me a story from his time playing football. I took a small sip of my drink, trying to pace myself. I had had three since we had started talking.

"It was crazy." He beamed, leaning against the counter. "Do you have any interesting stories?"

"I have a few." I smiled, thinking of all the good times I had had in the last few years. My heart suddenly dropped at the thought that Asrael had been there with me in every single one. I just shook my head, taking a swig.

"I'm intrigued." He raised his eyebrows in question, his dark hair brushing over his eyes.

"I'm really not a good storyteller." I tried to brush it off, and change the subject.

"You'll do fine." He pressured. In the background, I could have sworn I heard Asrael's laugh, but I didn't turn away knowing my paranoia was getting the best of me.

"It's getting kind of late." I mentioned, glancing at my watch. We had been talking for hours, and it was nearing midnight.

"I get off at two?" He suggested, but I had already began gathering my things.

"Thank you for the company." I smiled, paying for my alcohol and putting my coat on. "I'll see you around."

I left the bar, stepping into the brisk night air, deciding I would finish him tomorrow after a good night's sleep.

As I got into my car, I felt like I was being watched. Glancing in the window, Wyatt was looking outside, so I brushed away the gut feeling as just him.

The ride to the motel was slow, and I felt like I had gotten stopped at every light possible. I parked close to my room, locking my car up, leaving my jacket inside.

After unlocking my door, I tossed my purse on the bed. I took my two favored weapons and slid them under my pillow, before dropping the bag onto the ground.

I stretched, yawning, the lack of sleep from these last few days were finally getting to me. I stripped down to nothing, putting my clothes back into my suitcase and grabbing a oversized t-shirt, before slipping into a hot shower.

The shower went from hot to lukewarm in a matter of minutes, so I cleaned up quickly before getting out and drying off with an old towel that was sitting on the toilet lid.

Grogily, I slipped the t-shirt on and dried my hair slightly. Walking back into the main room, I tossed the duffle bag onto the ground next to the bed before zipping up my suitcase and setting it on the floor as well.

I tossed myself on the bed, the mattress groaning and creaking from my weight. I laid on my right side, facing the door, putting one hand under the pillow, touching both weapons.

I then pulled the covers over my body, my head becoming chilly from being damp. For the next few hours, I laid awake, unable to get both the look of betrayal that Asrael had on his face three years ago, and the look of terror that was forever  etched into my brain as I killed Kathleen.

I was getting soft. After all these years, I was getting soft.