Change

Part 2

5:36 A.M.

Noise. Incessant noise. Big hands search a nightstand for an alarm clock knocked to the floor minutes earlier. Eyes, clamped shut, unable to assist the man yearning for the silence of a dampened alarm.

"Fuck," his voice is hoarse, pained as he finally opens his eyes. His fists slam into the soft, blue sheets on his bed. He groans as he reaches to the floor, snatching the offending device from its place without any regard for the possibility of breaking it. It clatters to the floor as soon as it stops blaring the horrid noise.

Bare feet slam onto hard laminate. A soft hiss escapes the parted lips of the F.B.I. agent. A chill is drawn up through his feet and out his spine. He sulks across the room to his bathroom.

Puffy eyes stare back at him through the mirror, they examine his unkempt hair. His hands rake through the brown fluff, just as they had done repeatedly, incessantly, the night before. His eyelids sting, red and raw from rough hands scraping over delicate skin. He feels his stomach turn.

Knees hit tile, hands grip porcelain, bile hits water. Flush. Toothbrush scrubs teeth, soap lathers hands, water rolls down cheeks incapable of forcing a smile. "Fuck."

Heavy breathing is accompanied by the soft sounds of the television babbling in the other room. A labored breath feels as though it keeps the bile in his stomach. He dresses slowly, deliberately.

Flashbacks to the night before plague his morning routine.

"One of you has to have the courage to break this stalemate."

Dark blue slacks slide up trembling legs.

I trusted him. He told me to tell her and I trusted him! What a fucking idiot.

Brown hair emerges from the hole in a white t-shirt.

"I'm the gambler."

Clenched fists push through rigid, white sleeves.

I quit. I quit! He knows that and he used it against me! Why did I listen to him? I'm not a gambler anymore.

Tiny buttons are shoved into the holes they're meant to match with.

Soft lips don't kiss back.

White cotton is pressed flat against tense muscles.

He's a kid! A stupid kid. I never should have listened to him.

Cold metal is pulled upwards, locking a zipper in place.

"You're the one who needs protecting."

Agile fingers work a shiny red buckle off of a sleek black belt.

Me? How could I possibly be the one who needs protecting?

Leather threaded through thin fabric loops is bound with a pathetic titanium buckle.

"Let's go for a different outcome here."

A black blazer rests gently on heavy shoulders.

What did I expect? I should have known she didn't want me. I should've known listening to him was a bad idea. I shouldn't have trusted him.

Colorful socks are drawn over feet of a man who only chose the colors to show off to a woman in the first place.

"I knew."

A patterned tie hangs lifelessly from the neck of the man who once gave it light.

I don't know anything. I never knew anything. He made me believe. He should've stayed out of it like I asked him to.