She holds the remote to her chest as tears stream down her face. The room is now silent except for her crying and my quick breathing. I close my eyes, trying to regain control, but it doesn’t work. Instead, I’m overcome by nausea for a moment.
I need to sleep.
“Get back in that bed!” I don’t even open my eyes as I snap at her.
“I will! I will!” she stammers, but I don’t hear her move.
“Now!” I open my eyes and glare at her.
She scrambles quickly, making her way around me while keeping as much distance between us as possible. At the last second, she turns her back to me and runs through the bedroom doorway.
I follow, and she’s cowering on the floor near the bed. I feel my finger tense around the trigger of the Beretta, and I still don’t know what I’m going to do.
She’d left me alone, which is a betrayal as far as I am concerned. I just needed her to stay there long enough for me to get a few hours of peaceful sleep, and she’d abandoned me for a fucking movie.
I can’t catch my breath, and my gut aches as if I’ve just done a hundred sit-ups. I can taste sand in my mouth, and I feel like retching. My fingers tighten uncontrollably around the grip of the Beretta, and I can feel my pulse in my temple.
Even in my agitated state, I know I’m overreacting. The hooker at my feet is terrified, and I still need her. If I kill her now, I’ll have to go out and find another one. I’m not even sure I can drive at this point. Ultimately, I don’t want to clean up a big mess, so I point the gun away from her and try to calm my voice.
“I’m not going to kill you,” I say slowly. “Get up off the floor.”
She does as I say, still blubbering.
“Don’t shoot me! Please don’t shoot me!”
“I just said I wasn’t going to do that,” I say slowly, still trying to relax.
She’s got her eyes trained on the gun, and I realize I can’t just leave it out in the open. As soon as I’m asleep, she won’t hesitate to use it against me. I don’t know if she realizes who I am, but I can’t take the risk.
I walk with purpose to the closet, open the door, and look at her eyes as I tap the combination into the safe inside. I deposit the gun on top of a bunch of paper and cash and then close the safe again.
“Not going to kill you,” I say again.
She can only nod in response.
“Get back in bed.”
She complies, but she’s trembling all over as I approach. I feel like I’m dealing with a wounded animal, and I don’t have the patience for it right now. It’s taking all my energy to keep myself from shaking. The gunshot blasts from the television are still echoing in my ears.
Strangely enough, they never bother me when I’m the one pulling the trigger.
I close my eyes, center myself, and then crawl back into bed beside the hooker. I settle against the pillow and meet her eyes.
“I need sleep,” I tell her. “If you leave, I’ll wake up again, capisce?”
“I didn’t know,” she says quietly, not meeting my eyes.
“You know now.” My words are too harsh, and I feel her stiffen beside me. “I need sleep and quiet and no fucking television. You stay put.”
“I will.” Her voice is barely audible.
I reach over and pull her tense body against me. With my head on the pillow, I close my eyes and try to ignore the pounding in my head. My breath comes too fast, and I know if I open my eyes, I’ll see that kid across the room. I can feel his presence even when I don’t look in his direction. I suppose that makes sense since he’s just a figment of my imagination. The real one was buried long ago.
It takes a while, but eventually I fall asleep again.
When I wake, I immediately realize I’m not alone. There is a brief moment when I search for the familiar scent of a girl who is long gone, but I smell only cinnamon. It brings back my recollection of last night, and with a little trepidation, I look to the sleeping hooker in my bed.
To say that I had treated her like shit would be an understatement.