Page 84 of Wallflower

Shantel gets to her feet, debating whether she should approach me or not. “I’m sorry, baby, but you’ve been blowing me off. I just wanted to make sure you were okay after tonight.”

“I don’t need you to check on me, I touched base with Kyle after clean up.”

“Kyle is not your head of security.”

“No, but heismy second-in-command. Out-ranking you by a fucking mile.”

Ire scrawls itself across her face, mouth opening, ready to spit its vitriol my way.

“Get. Out.” I punctuate each word, hoping the point finally gets across. She stands her ground, wanting to keep the fight going just to stay in my orbit. This is nothing new, she wants it to turn into a fuck session.

It won’t.

I’ll never touch her again, and it’s her fault.

“Leave. Before I have to explain to Bucky why he’s short another fucking sibling.” It’s a low blow, but the memory of herdeceased brother is like a bucket of ice water on her burning loins.

“Fuck you,” she spits, swiping a sundress up off the floor. Quickly and silently, she slips it on. Grabbing her purse from the small table by the door before leaving.

I have half a mind to call the front desk and demand a new key, but I don’t have the energy to talk to anyone. I’m leaving for the mainland in just over twenty-four hours anyway, the headache isn’t worth it.

There’s no way in hell I’ll be falling back asleep after that. A scorching hot shower calls to me from the darkened bathroom, and I follow like a kicked puppy.

I haven’t felt like this in ages.

Dirty. Violated. Used.

I want to crawl back into bed and rot, but my life won’t allow that. Fuck Shantel for thrusting this upon me. I’ve been okay for a while now. The good days steadily outweighing the bad.

The knob creaks when I turn the water as hot as it will go. Steam rapidly fills the room, fogging up the glass and obscuring my loathsome stare in the mirror.

I scrub until my skin is red and my dick is raw. It’s not enough. I still feel her on me, hearhervoice in my head, only now Shantel’s face has entered the mix, creating a fucked up hybrid of past and present trauma.

My fist drives into the matte grey tile. Again and again and again. I wish I could take it back. Erase her from my past to prevent her from imposing on my future.

This isn’t helping, the shower and self-induced pain not near enough to level me out this time.

I’m suffocating, steadily losing myself, bombarded by memories in this misty, claustrophobic room.

I need out.

An escape.

Rose.

Her name is a poem. A promise for reprieve. A balm to the eternal burning of my skin and soul.

I don’t know what she’s doing to me, or why I’m so mindlessly fucking addicted to her. She’s cracked me open and ruined the carefully crafted structure holding me together.

Shutting off the water, I step out of the shower. Steam billows out into the bedroom when I open the door. One glance at the mussed up bed reawakens the panic, the feeling. I can’t stay here another night. Another minute is already too long. I’ll sleep in my car if I have to. I just need out. To breathe the fresh fucking air in a place that doesn’t house the echoes of my internal screaming.

My clothing choice is somber. All black—no fun underwear or wacky shirts today. I robotically move through the room, suppressing the emotions as I collect all my things and pack them away.

Good riddance to this room, I’ll never be staying at this hotel again. They can blame Shantel for the steep decline they’ll see in revenue.

The door clicks shut at my back as I move to the elevator and press the button. Once descended to the lobby, I casually cross to the administration desk. It takes every ounce of remaining energy in me to keep composure as the bugs of disgust crawl beneath my skin. Thankfully, the early check-out process goes off without a hitch, and there’s no extra hidden fees to dispute. I’d have happily paid them just to get the fuck out of that tainted place faster, and bitched about the cost later. Probably kicking myself about the added expense I could have fought against.

I already feel lighter as I step out into the early morning air, suitcases in hand. The open space loosens my chest, allowing me a full breath of fresh air as I cross the parking lot. I pack mythings away safely in the trunk, then slip into the driver’s seat of the rented Jag.