***

The next morning, I’m met with silence that confusingly rests in the hotel room. There’s no clanging of china or a buzzing TV or any sign of life resting beyond the door of my room. I even pause the slow, but chaotic, thoughts in order to listen for anything that would alert me to Harry’s presence in the front room.

Nothing.

Frowning a little, I groggily begin to untangle myself from the sheets that were wrapped around my naked body, grabbing up the t-shirt of his I’d worn last night up off the floor and sliding it over myself. I’m aware that it hits rather high on my thighs and that my lack of underwear would probably prove for an embarrassing situation, so decide to loosely tie the robe around me. I run my fingers through my hair, trying to sort out any tangles while taking a brief peak out of the window, and, with a tired exhale, head out into the living room-like space.

But there’s no Harry waiting for me like the morning before. Instead, a piece of crisp, white paper with a messy black scrawl etched onto it catches my eye. It’s resting next to a plain white teapot that is spitting out steam through its narrow spout, an obvious beacon the typically British boy would think would attract my attention. However, I was American and though that didn’t mean I didn’t like tea or couldn’t crave it, I needed a stronger brew to shake off the clutches of sleep: coffee.

Smiling a little none the less, I quickly snap up the note he’d left and read over it while heading towards the breakfast tray that was, yet again, resting in the room.



I let out a hum at the news of his leaving me alone for a while and pick up a piece of warm bread as I start to mull over what I was to do. Obviously shopping was out of the question, as money was required for that sort of thing, but I was in desperate need of some clothes that weren’t a boys and that actually fit me. Of course Harry’s t-shirts smelled nice and they were soft against my skin, but they were too short and cut wrong; I needed my own clothes.

As the thought enters my mind, I pour some coffee into an undecorated cup and take a seat on the couch. Going back to my old room could be bad. Barb probably would curse me out or, worse, deck me one for leaving those two sacks of shit in her complex. But my clothes were there (hopefully) and, though there weren’t many, I could stop using all of Harry’s. It would be one less thing I would have to bum off him.

With cautious warnings blaring loudly about how I should just forget that room and everything in it, I slip on the same outfit I’d worn last night, grab up my purse and head out.

It would be a quick trip, I muse as I get into the elevator. I could slip in without Barb or anyone noticing, get my things and make it back here before Harry. Easy.

The walk down the boulevard is long, but a rather good one. It’s a scorching day, but Harry’s t-shirt is breezy and the wind slips through it easily. My hair swirls around my face and I smile while it touches my cheeks in playful ways. I’m thinking on what all could go wrong as I get closer and closer to the motel, but it’s not suffocating me like all my usual, heavy thoughts do. Maybe it was because I knew I wasn’t going to go back to this place to stay—that I wouldn’t have to sleep there and drown in all the bad memories of times that I try to repress. I could just get my things and leave because, for now, there was a much better place for me.

I even start to hum the slow beat of the song I’d gotten so emotional over last night. It was so beautiful and even though it had made me cry, I’d found myself mentally singing it as Harry and I had walked back to the room last night.

Everything about me this morning is different, I note, my relaxed nature as I head back into my own personal remnants of hell bringing this to my attention. I don’t know what to blame that on, but ignore the voice in my head that pushes me in the direction of Harry’s kind smiles and understanding words.

When the shabby looking place comes into view, my eyes dart around for any sign of the landlord. There’s a few people loitering around some old cars parked in front of the motel, two or three persons leaning over the railings on the left cluster of rooms, but other than that, the entire complex seems empty. I furrow my eyebrows at this, but start for my room; sure, it wasn’t that unusual, as people didn’t start really coming out until dark, but I expected a bigger crowd than this.

An unexpected raid, maybe? I shake my head at that thought, fully knowing that this entire place would’ve been shut down. There weren’t just prostitutes that stayed in these rooms, but drug dealers and the hookers pimps and countless other shady people. We are converged here wordlessly and hid away in the outdated and cheap rooms, hoping no law enforcement would catch us doing whatever it is weren't supposed to be. So if police had jumped the place, then I knew it would be hot, meaning no one participating in anything illegal would come within four buildings and who else would have standards so low to sleep in such shitty conditions?

I make it to my room just as I conclude that it was far too early in the morning for the night owls to be out and push away the warning thought that had struck up earlier today. Digging out my key from my messy bag, I warily unlock the knob and give the door a gentle push that creaks it open and reveals a destroyed inside. I sigh and shuffle in, wading through a mess of broken and tipped over things, shutting the door behind me as I go. Only standing for a few seconds to look over what the two John’s had done, I mentally curse them and myself for even having agreed to their wish. Then I’m hurrying over to the closet, pulling out a poorly looking duffel bag and starting to shove everything my fingertips touch into it.

After minutes of doing this, the thing is nearly full and I’ve scrounged up the majority of my slim wardrobe. I search around for some key pieces of jewelry that I remembered I had and hoped those assholes hadn’t stolen, throw three more tubes of half-used lipstick into the faded bag, and trade my scratched up heels out for my dirty, white sneakers.

I deem myself ready to finally and completely leave this place behind and am shoving everything aside in order to get to the door when it’s pushed open. Wide eyed and with my heart beating erratically now, I scamper behind my bed in hopes that if it was anyone who meant harm, then I could use it as a shield or something, and try to make out any facial features on the sun glared person.

“Hey, toots.” The voice is feminine, which makes me relax some. “Thought your skinny ass wouldn’t ever come back here after you tore out like someone runnin’ from the law the other day.”

Barb steps in, her lips forming into a tight, thin line while she quickly looks over the destroyed room. I’m unsure if her catching me here is bad or good, but decide to think it’s the latter and start to figure out way to get out fast.

“Uh… Had to come back for my things, but I’m leaving now.”

“Oh, yea? Where ya going?”

“Away,” I quip, scooting over the bed while lugging my heavy bag behind me. She moves around to let me out, which makes my heart slow a bit, and raises the left corner of her withered mouth up in a lopsided smile while taking the key I just barely remember to give her.

“That’s good. Don’t need someone like you runnin’ ‘round with any of these no good people who live here. Got yourself somewhere else to stay?”

At this point, I’m stunned. Barb, the woman who hounded me all the time for money and with worry about cops showing up, was now complimenting me and sounding worried. What was this?

“Yea… Yea, somewhere downtown.”

“That’s good,” she says again, nodding this time. She shoves her big hands into the tight pockets of her faded jeans, looking away from my face.

I head towards the door now, ignoring the questions I suddenly want to ask her, and am halfway out into the covered, concrete hall when she calls out to me once more.

“Well, you take care of yourself, alright? Don’t wanna see your skinny ass ‘round here or any other bad part of town, ya here? You get out while you can!”

Not looking back, I walk faster out of the complex than I’d walked in, my thoughts no longer free and happy, but confused and a little shaken. I’d thought she would’ve pummeled me for getting that room destroyed in such a way or at least curse me out so bad that I would cry; she’d not done any of that, though. She even genuinely seemed glad that I wasn’t going to be staying there. Whether this is because I wouldn’t have to worry her anymore or because she was sort of cared about my well-being, I don’t know and I don’t care. I’m going to forget her and her sudden kindness just like I’m going to forget about that room and everything horrible thing that ever happened in it.



When I make it back to the hotel, I’m met with a dead lobby, except for someone who was frantically speaking at the front desk. But they seem too occupied with their heated conversation with the receptionist to notice me, so I try to slip by quietly and into the elevator when it dings open for me.

“Hold the door, please!” At the call of the deep voice, I fling my arm out in order to stop the thick doors from closing and shuffle over as a tall frame lumbers in.

I move over into the far corner and don’t look up at their face, my thoughts elsewhere for the time being. But the ride up to the floor in which Harry’s room rests on is long and soon the cologne that the person was wearing fills the small space and I find myself inhaling deeply. An involuntary, satisfied hum slips out of my mouth slowly, making my eyes widen and my cheeks blaze in embarrassment as they turn to look at me.

“Delaney?” I don’t need to look up to know who I’d just made such a sexual noise about, as it had been around me for two days now. Harry. “I thought you’d left!”

“No, I didn’t go anywhere,” I smile, gazing up at him reluctantly. “Just went back for some of my stuff is all.”

His green eyes linger on my face for a bit, searching and tracing my features, then they fall on the heavy bag that was weighing one side of my body down. A grin spreads lopsidedly over his pink lips and he leans down and eases the straps of the faded thing out of my hands slowly.

“Good,” he murmurs. “Good.”