Burning

Chapter EIGHT

The light against his eyelids painted everything red. Daylight? Already? He felt stiff, per usual when sleeping on the ground but there was no bite of concrete floor against his bones. Christopher felt warm. His face was the wrong direction on the pillow for the sun to come through the store front and he felt the dizzying sensation of his mind searching for the plane his body was laying. It was too soft and cozy to be the store. For an instant he felt a relief so great it seemed like he could take a full breath again. It had been a bad dream. An insane bad dream. He was home. It took a moment to peel his eyes open. The painful weight settled back into his chest. He wasn't home. His finger tips were cold, one of his hands was still hanging outside of the blankets and he realized he was in the same position he'd fallen asleep in. No wonder he was disoriented. Despite the pain of disappointment he did feel physically better. Christopher flexed some feeling back into his fingers and tried to sit up, taking in the sight of the cluttered living room.

Gabrielle had created a nest of cushions and blankets just below him and was clutching a pillow to her chest, purple lipstick smeared down her chin. That gave him a sting of guilt. He'd asked her not to leave and she'd taken it very literally, not even removing her makeup on top of sleeping in the living room. The white dog was stretched out between the couch and the chair, blocking the exit and it occurred to him finally what had woken him. He needed to use the restroom. Now. The idea of stepping over a sleeping giant with teeth the size of his thumb didn't help. He ended up scaling the back of the couch and tiptoeing away.

The sleep must have worked some kind of magic because as he washed his hands the mirror was unavoidable but his face looked less sunken, the circles under his eyes less pronounced. He leaned forward, examining a cut on his cheek from the run through the woods in the pass. He'd expected it to scar after how long it took to heal, but it looked better. A thump against the bathroom door drew his attention away.

"Sorry, Gabrielle-" he froze seeing her massive white mutt instead. It opened its jaws and stepped towards him. He slammed the door shut and heard the scratching of claws against it as though the thing were trying to dig its way inside.

The door started to slip and he yanked it back closed.

"My bad- are you in there? You should lock it."

"I'm trapped! Your dog was going to bite me."

Gabrielle laughed outside the door. "I promise she has never bitten anyone. She was just trying to help you."

"Help me." He repeated. "How? I'm in the bathroom."

"I dunno dogs like to sit and watch when you pee. Guarding or something."

"From what?"

"I don't know Chris- She's a dog its just a normal thing they do. Come on out."

He cautiously opened the door. No dog. Gabrielle's purple hair was going every direction possible.

He cleared his throat. "Thank you for letting me stay the night. You didn't need to sleep on the ground though."

"You honestly didn't give me much choice though. You held onto my sleeve for at least 30 minutes even when you were dead to the world."

"I- did?" He tried to remember exactly. After eating and having the cat curled up on him and being covered up with the comforter everything got very fuzzy.

She nodded then tilted her head. "Do you feel better? You scared me last night."

The genuine concern on her face surprised him once more. "Yes. Much better. Thank you, again."

"Good. Move I gotta pee!"

Christopher side stepped her, unsure if he was amused or grossed out by the declaration. He returned to the living room. Now that he wasn't having trouble walking upright he could take in the tiny house more thoroughly. There was a strip of wall between the living room and the kitchen, tucking a single large table between the two. It was piled high with old receipts cereal boxes, wrapping paper, some wrinkled apples and random Tupperware. One corner had the junk shoved backwards enough to leave room for a bowl with the inside's stained pink and a spoon. The living room had a pile of shoes in a corner, magazines and the innards of stuffed dog toys littered the floor next to Gabrielle's nest. Nothing looked too dirty, per se there was just a bunch of stuff sitting around everywhere. Other than the kitchen sink which was stacked with dishes. He stared at it for a good 30 seconds before giving in to the nails on a chalk board type stress it caused him.