AllFreeNovel
Share Us
“I can’t let her go,“ I say to Trine. “There’s a panic button under the desk, Trine. Can you press that?“
Trine nods, but she moves slowly toward the desk, as if she can’t believe what’s just happened. But she does walk behind the desk, leaning down and pressing the button that I’ve told her about.
I know that we’re about to go into lockdown, but I’m not sure what’s going to happen. I’ve never had a situation like this with a member of staff and I don’t know if they’re going to turn against me.
“Sit down, Trine,“ I say. “Back where you were. Please? Quickly.“
It doesn’t take her long to sit down. When she does, the nurse bites down on my forearm, and my instinct is to let her go. But I’m not going to fucking do that, no matter how much it hurts.
“Stop it,“ I say.
The nurse turns to look at Trine, her body straightening as she looks at Trine. “Get away from him,“ she says. “Don’t believe anything he tells you. Wherever he is, whatever he does, he’s only trying to hurt you.“
Trine’s gaze darts between the two of us, and when she opens her mouth to answer, I think she’s going to ask her what she means. But the door opens, and the moment passes as assistants walk inside, ready to subdue the nurse who’s out of control.
So this is probably going to be weird.
REI
Ilie in the uncomfortable hotel bed, looking at my phone and wondering if I should try and call to get more information about Trine.
I want to call the medical facility, but I know better than that. Anyway, it’s not like they would tell me. I’m not part of her care team and she won’t be released for another couple of days, so I’m just as in the dark as everyone else.
Truthfully, I should’ve seen this coming. Trine wasn’t doing too well. I should’ve pushed harder to speak to her alone, but I don’t know if there’s anything I could’ve done to stop her from getting committed.
I know what she’s doing, but it’s not like I can ask about it. She’s completely inaccessible, probably under constant watch, and I’m worried about her. I finish my glass of wine–in a red plastic cup, which is awful–and put the bottle back into the minifridge next to the TV.
It’s late, but I don’t think I’m going to be able to sleep much. When I get in bed, I grab my phone and wonder if I should text Misha.
Fuck it. I might as well. There’s nothing to do but wait and I don’t want to wait by myself.
Hey, how are you holding up?
He texts back almost immediately.I’m worried. I know what she’s doing and I don’t like it at all. She’s making it difficult for us to help her.
That’s…more than he normally says over text. He must bereallyworried.
I text back straight away.Once she gets out, we’ll help her.
I see the texting bubble pop up, but he says nothing. The three dots appear, then disappear…then appear again. He seems to rethink it a couple of times before he sends me another message.Right. Good night.
I guess that means this conversation is over. I sigh and lean back on the bed, taking my glasses off and raking my hands back through my hair. I don’t think that it’s going to be easy for me to fall asleep. It’s been hard to sleep through the night lately. I’m aware that it’s likely to be stress, but my usual methods don’t seem to be helping.
I taste the sweet wine on my lips as I sink down into the bed, my eyelids heavy. I fall asleep almost immediately. When I wake up, I’m still in the same dingy hotel room, still on the uncomfortable bed. My back hurts.
And the air conditioner unit is blowing so loudly that I’m sure it’s what has woken me. The temperature is extremely cold, but for some reason, I’m sweating. I notice that it’s hard for me to get up even though I know I have to–my muscles feel sore and heavy and my body feels like it’s glued to the hotel mattress.
Everything about this is wrong.
I hear a knock on the door. The soft rapping of knuckles alarms me, since it’s the middle of the night and the only light I can see is the dim glow of the pricing sign from the gas station next door to the hotel. It flickers on and off with jarring regularity, casting the whole room in red neon.
It horrifies me to hear the lock click as the person outside comes into my room. I open my mouth to tell them to go away, but prying my lips open isn’t happening for me, and I soon realize that there’s absolutely nothing I can do but lay there.
My first instinct is to close my eyes as I hear footsteps approach me, but I have to look. I can’t just not see the person approaching me, even if I’m completely at their mercy.
Trine.
Her hair is tied up in a loose ponytail, tendrils of curly hair framing her face. I can see the white in her brown eyes, which reminds me of Tom Souter’s exorcism. I want to say her name, but I’m not actually able to say anything at all.
