Nightly Behaviors

Chapter 9

I wake up in the guest room bed with the windows covered back in those annoyingly thin pieces of cloth. They literally serve no purpose, they don't even block out light, and they're not stylish enough to want to keep. Literally all they do is cover the beautiful scenery of the city ahead.

I sit up and instantly wish I hadn't, my jaw is cramped, I feel fatigue and my head is pounding. Much to my surprise I can remember every disturbing detail of the night. Even the interesting sexual encounter at the front door, and me knocking out there afterwards... How the hell did I get in here?

I groan and throw my legs over the side of the bed to stand but when I shift I feel way to disoriented and decide not to move a muscle.

A knock on the door interrupts my calm state that it took literally 30 minutes of blank staring and silence to achieve and it feels like all the cells in my braid just decided to start bouncing off my cranium in a frenzy.

"I brought breakfast." I heard the voice yell. Although I'm sure he didn't, it felt like he yelled, so I bring my hands to cover over my ears and rub my temples. A bag of McDonald lands next to me and I hear to door shut softly and I'm left alone in the room again.

After an hour of being awake and sitting in silence I open the bag that Chresanto threw at me and rummage through it. A plate of pancakes and two hash browns, my regular. Wow my regular. The hash browns are now cold and hard but its my fault for not eating them as soon as they arrived. The pancakes are still decent and can be eaten at the temperature there in, so I stuff my face.

I finish the plate with a belch that smells of syrup and chemicals.

I gather up the trash and leave the small room to throw it away.

"Feeling better?"

I pause at the deep voice in the kitchen and wait for my brain to spaz out, but it doesn't. I guess the food helped. "Yea." I answer flatly walking past him and into the cupboards for a cup. My body was craving water like a fish so I quickly fill it up and gulp it down.

"You look like shit." He chuckles.

I am not in the mood for joking around my head hurts to much for laughter  I think he could tell when I didn't reply. I continue my journey to the trash can and lift the top to throw away the pancake plate, balled up trash and cold hash brown.

"Hey hey hey, why are you throwing these away."

He rushed over to taking the cold hard hash browns from the top of my plate.

"They're cold and hard now."

He reaches for one of his many shiny pots above the island, turns on the stove and smiles at me.

He has really pretty teeth I think to myself. Coming to think of it, it was the first real smile he'd ever given me. Behind this one was genuine kindness, not boastfulness like the smirks he usually throws at me or like the smiles he plasters on his face after intercourse. A smile that opens a small window in him. "If you want of course?"

Wait. "Huh?"

I was so concentrated on obsessing over his miracle of the genuine smile that I hadn't been listening to a single other word he said.

"I said I know a way to get them crispy again. If you want."

I shrug and shake my head. "Nah I'll be ok without them."

"Ok suit yourself." He picks up the two hash browns and throws them into the trash turns the stove off and puts his pan away.

"Hey," he prods curiously, " who's Alona?"