The Hart Hotel

Chapter Ten 15th May 2019.

Nathaniel snaps up, lurching forward in his bed, his breathing strained. He wheezes, trying to gasp for breath, sweat pouring down his forehead. His right hand shoots up, as he runs his fingers through his hair, keeping his hand there as he looks around the room with bloodshot eyes.

"Oh god," he breathes, leaning back against the wooden headboard. He closes his eyes, swallowing hard. Sweat stains his white T-shirt, trickling down his umber cheek as he sighs.

He stares out in front of him for a really long time, I really need to get a hold of these nightmares.

He turns his head, looking at the photograph on his bedside table. He looks at Evelyn's toothy grin, at his arms wrapping around Eric, who's arms are slightly blurred due to his laughter. Nathaniel smiles weakly at the picture, looking closer as he sees Noah sitting in his chair in the background, his gaze elsewhere.

You need to get up and fix this, he pushes himself, pulling his quilt cover off of him.

He swings his legs off the bed, his hands at either side of him as he hesitates. Nathaniel wants nothing more than to lie there, hoping if he closes his eyes again, he will be welcomed by happy memories and to never wake up to this haunting reality. But he doesn't, he pushes himself up off the bed and walks towards the bathroom, closing the door behind him as goes on to turn the bathroom tap on. Washing the freezing water against his hot skin, letting it ease away from his tension.

"Boo!" a loud voice shout from behind him.

"Shit!" he jumps, whizzing around on his feet as he comes face to face with Beatrice,

Beatrice cackles, her hand on her stomach as she continues to laugh at Nathaniel's reaction. "You," she cries, "you should have seen your..." she laughs.

Nathaniel places his hand over his face, sighing, "Really?".

Beatrice straightens, waving her hand with her many rings at him.

"Oh, give over," she dismisses, "it was only a little fun". Nathaniel puts his hand down beside him, turning to turn off the tap.

"You could do with a little cheering up, wouldn't you say?" she hums, looking at his reflection in the mirror above the sink.

Nathaniel remains silent, taking in a deep breath as his eyes meet hers through the mirror.

"I need to get back on track..." he pauses, guilt eating away at his heart, "I'm... I'm a mess," he says, tears swelling in his eyes. Beatrice's features soften, "I'm... sorry if I upset you". Nathaniel shakes his head, turning to face her, "No," he says, his voice faltering. "It's not you," he assures, trying to display a short smile. "I... just keep spiralling," he says, twirling his finger as he motions his hand downwards.

Beatrice shakes her head at him, "No, you're not," she moves closer towards him, wanting to embrace him but realises she can't.

Nathaniel laughs bitterly, "Then what would you call all the drinking, the..." he chokes, "what would you call all this... mess?" he questions, gesturing to himself.

Beatrice reaches her hand out to touch his shoulder, but he feels nothing as he tries to get him to look her in the eye. He wants nothing more than to avert her gaze, all of this grief spilling over.

"I wouldn't say this... mess is spiralling," she says softly, "I would say, this man". She falters a little, placing her other hand on his shoulder, "This wonderful man, however rude he can be," she tries to jest, "is just in a tough spot and after the... troubles he's facing... he'll pick himself up and get to the bottom of it".