Compulsion

Chapter 4.2

I am staring at the snow-white ceiling. Smiling, then burst out laughing. Nervously. Trying to calm down myself and thank someone in Heaven for good luck. What should I do? I guess I have to leave. But I am too weak to stand up. I feel ashamed. As if people know what I was doing in the luxury apartment and would look at me with disdain. Just like that waitress in the restaurant.

I was about to sleep with a stranger for money!

Another phone call interrupts my reflection. It's my phone now. I reach into my bag and pull out my wrecked phone with a broken middle button.

'Hello.'

'Good evening, miss Brown. It's Dr. Connor. Sorry to bother you at night, but I have some critical news.'

Hysterical laughter instantly stops, and the air freezes in my chest and does not move out. Oxygen or carbon dioxide, it does not matter now.

'Adam is getting worse,' the doctor adds, tired of waiting for my response. 'According to last tests, the critical stage is about to start. He needs immediate surgery. The faster the better. Do you hear me, Dolores?'

No, Dr. Connor. I don't want to hear you. You have just stabbed my heart and killed my belief. Shut out from hope that my brother can survive.

I never liked my full name. Never! And I hate it now.

'I do. Fine.'

The call is over. I am not sure who hung up. I mumbled okay or something, but I am not sure that he heard me. Just like in a soap opera: the phone slips away from my hand and falls on the bed. My hands are suddenly getting weak. They reach to my eyes, soaking up tears of bitterness...

Small trickles are flowing down my face, smearing the perfect make-up, which took so much Alice's effort. My mascara is waterproof, so it shouldn't run but it finally gives up too. Salty drops sting and eat away my soul. Sense. Feelings. Memories are streaming through my head like short gifs. Our childhood, school years, our fights, and arguments about who would blow out the candles on a birthday cake. And then a recent cut-out.

I was about to have sex with a stranger for the sake of the part of me...

But money can't save him now. You cannot buy time. And I am short of time.

The phone is buzzing again. Andrew. I want to hang up, but if I take the call, I'll never get out of here. I will stay in this luxury apartment until morning, howling like a dog from helplessness and sensation of impending doom.

'Andrew, get me out of here,' I beg in a tearful voice.

'What's happened? Where are you?'

'Please, get me out!'

I finally tell him the hotel address and the room number. I'm ashamed to tell why I'm here even to my best friend who knows everything about me. Andrew doesn't say anything, hangs up the phone. Half an hour later, he calls me again and asks to come down to the hall. This is a difficult task when you are mentally crushed but I still find a nerve to get out of bed, wash my face and leave the room. But before that, I put the envelope into my purse.

Just like a whore...