Darkside

Five

What the...?

Where the hell am I? Why does my head throb? Why is my heart in my ass like I just know I did something wrong?

"Morning."

Oh God. Orson. I should not be waking up with Orson. But there he is, next to me in the bed, looking naked from where I am right now.

"Er, yeah, morning."

I can't look at him. I don't want to see him. Am I an animal completely unable to control myself? How did this even happen? Why don't I remember?

This is dangerous. I keep putting myself in the firing line for the shotgun like I want to be killed. Phoenix is supposed to be better, stronger, sensible. The only reason I thought I could pull this off is because I'm smart.

Clearly, there's no intelligence here. I just slept with the first guy I came across.

"You okay? You look sick."

"I..." Am I sick? Maybe. "I might just pop to the bathroom."

I try to wrap the sheets around my gross naked body, because I'm messy as fuck and I don't want him to see, but there's no way to do that in a graceful manner. If anything, I make it more awkward.

"You need anything?" Orson wants to laugh the awkwardness off, but I can't. "Let me help you."

"Leave it. I'm good, I just need to..."

I might as well be running, I'm so desperate to get in the bathroom, to block him out. The door slams too hard behind me, it's embarrassing. My legs give way until my ass hits the floor hard, bruising my sensitive skin.

What the fuck is wrong with me? Why am I such a mess?

Luvvie made mistakes. Endless mistakes. Too many to count.

I want Phoenix to be better.

Is there still a chance for that? Have I fucked up too much already? Perhaps when I escape this town I can start over and learn from my mistakes. Do better.

I sure as shit can't do any worse.

"Er, I think I'll get going." As Orson calls through the door, I can tell I've made him uncomfortable. "Give you some time. I need to get breakfast cooking anyway. You want anything or are you in a hurry to get out of here?"

"Erm..."

I'm not going anywhere today. The buses might be running, but I'm not going anywhere. I feel far too shitty for that. To be honest, if anyone was going to find me in this motel, they would've done so already, but no one wants to find Phoenix because she doesn't exist.

Luvvie is safe too. Missing: presumed dead.

"I don't think I'll leave." I'm croaking, probably because I'm on the verge of puking. "I'll have breakfast. Thank you, Orson. That's...really nice of you."

I will sleep this shit off, ignore my laptop all day long, avoid Orson as much as I can, then sort the mess of my life out when I'm awake and able to cope.

With my ear pressed against the door, I head the unmistakable sound of Orson leaving which allows me to breathe freely once more. With the breath comes the almost overwhelming urge to cry but no tears come. My ducts have been blocked off. There's nothing there.

"What am I doing?"

Wandering aimlessly, I'm not good at that, clearly. I need direction, a point on the map. But that's a Luvvie trait, the need to have control over where I head next, to need that end goal. Phoenix won't ever have that luxury so I best adjust rapidly.

"Go with the flow...see where the wind takes you...even if that sounds like crap."