Twist Of Fate

Twenty Two

HARRY 

I can't pretend it wasn't a shock to see my face on the news like that. I've never felt so sick in my entire life. These last couple of days I have obviously become complacent. Of course I hadn't forgotten the reason for being in this situation, but I have to admit the whole thing was starting to feel a little hazy, and remote. I suppose I have been lulled into a false sense of security by my success so far, and now I understand that it hasn't been success at all - it has been ignorance. If I had been keeping my eye on the news I would have probably known the progress of the police investigation the whole way along. I have been unbelievably stupid. And now I am stuck in some musty hotel room with a girl I have known all of five minutes, my liberty depending on the strength of her nerve.

Chloe. What a strange revelation that was, that she is scared of me. I'm not sure how that makes me feel. Shocked, I suppose. But at the same time can I really claim to be surprised by this? Haven't I been hard on her at times, shouted at her when I know deep down it makes her nervous, because she is already jumpier than a box of frogs? I've never met anyone like her before; so innocent and sheltered. I don't get what her deal is. Even when I am yelling at her she just takes it, and that makes me want to yell at her more, to provoke some sort of reaction from her, to see some fire and passion in her soul. But it's like there's nothing. And I don't understand why.

In the aftermath of our disagreement she is lying on her bed on her side, facing away from me towards the window. I glance over at her; she probably doesn't want to look at me, given the awkward atmosphere, but part of me wants to strike up a conversation and get back to what we were talking about earlier so she can explain why she is like a terrified little mouse all the time. But at the same time, I don't want her to start fucking bawling, so maybe it's best if I just leave things alone. I don't deal well with women crying. I never know what to say, and inevitably I get blamed for the tears in the first place. I can't win.

The silence stretches before us. My discomfort mounts by the second.

I clear my throat. "Can you pass the remote?"

At first she doesn't react; she doesn't even flinch. 

"Chloe? Are you asleep?" 

There is a short pause. "No, I'm not asleep." She rolls over, holding the remote out to me, and I take it from her and point it at the television to get a TV guide up on the screen.

"You're welcome," she mutters.

I frown and look over at her. Is she being sarcastic? "What?" I mutter back.

"You. You're not big on manners are you? Or courtesy."

"Aren't I?"

She doesn't respond to this, but sits up and reaches for one of the carrier bags that is looking a little worse for wear now, after being lugged around the wilderness for several days. She rummages inside for a moment, and then pulls out a couple of slices of bread and a plastic tub of Heinz beans.

"You want some?" 

I pull a face at her offering. Dry bread with cold beans is fucking disgusting, but on the other hand I'm starving and there is nothing else on offer unless we venture out of the hotel room. And until we know more about what the police are doing, I'm confident neither of us wants to do that.

"Yeah, OK."

She opens the lid of the beans and pours some delicately onto the piece of bread she is holding, folds it in half with the beans inside, and holds it out to me carefully to avoid it falling apart. I accept it from her and take a large bite, chewing thoughtfully and trying to imagine a big juicy steak instead. I mull over her comments just now about courtesy. Should I have said thank you?