Crimson Creek

{seven}

Tyler's p.o.v

I opened my eyes, a pain shooting through my head and a sore back accompanying it. The air was hot, the kind of hot that bakes you and makes your body feel sticky and moist. It was awful; I never have cared for the heat. The culprit, a blazing sun, was peaking through the blinds on the window, and dust floated through the rays, darting around like little bugs.

Looking around, I realized I had no idea where I was or how I got there. My surrounding were completely new.

I searched my brain got any recollection of what the heck was going on, but everything was blank, the last thing I remember was sitting at the bar. There was no doubting I was shit faced last night. I'd only been drunk a few times in my life; I enjoyed the feeling of it, where all my anxieties and fears seemed to disappear, leaving a feeling of numbness behind. But last night was different. My breath began to get heavy as panic set in.

It was then I realized I was naked, and a man lay beside me. My eyes became glassy as I looked away from the stranger's snoring body and instead examined the room. It was messy, beer bottles and clothes (among other things) scattered around on the stained carpet. In other words, a pigsty.

I set my throbbing head in my hands and wondered how the hell I let this happened. We'd obviously had sex, which would be added to list of reasons why God hated me. Lust was a deadly sin, but wasn't deadlier than my own hands, which committed far worse crimes against the lord. 

"No," I shook my head, trying to make sense of it. "No, no, no."

"Well good mornin' to you too, gorgeous," I heard the man say, his voice raspy. It was too hard to look up at face him, not that I wanted to anyway.

"Did we..?" I trailed off, already knowing the answer as I hugged the bed sheet closer to body, a feeble attempt to keep at least some modesty. He chuckled, much to my dismay, the sound of it oddly familiar.

It was only when he snuck a hand onto my shoulder that I looked up. And boy, I wish I hadn't.

"Daniel?!" I gasped in disbelief, grabbing the bedsheets and wrapping them around me as I clambered out of the bed, leaving him completely exposed.

Daniel didn't seem to care much, reaching over and grabbing a cigarette off of his bedside table. He put it between his lips before grabbing his lighter. "Calm down," was all he said, the words slightly muffled by the cig in his mouth.

I avoided looking at his lower region, scoffing at his calmness about all of this. For Christ sake, I'd slept with the person responsible for solving a murder I committed.
Of course, he didn't know that.

"How can I be calm when you took advantage of me?" I interrogated furiously.  Daniel removed the cigarette from his mouth, puffing out smoke and cocking an eyebrow.

"Took advantage? As I remember it, we were both drunk as Cooter Brown, and we both decided to have sex," he corrected.

All I could think about was how I had to go to the church and confess this sin. I had to, before it was too late.

"I-I have to go," I managed, holding back tears for the second time this morning and looking around for my clothes.

"Aw, come on now. At least stay for breakfast-"
"No," I cut him off sharply, my voice unsteady and shaky. I almost tripped over my long, makeshift coverup, still searching for my shirt and pants so that I could leave.

"You're not going to find them in here. We started out in the living room-"
"I don't want to know what happened last night!" I snapped, not letting him finish his sentence yet again. I really couldn't stand to hear his voice, especially after what we'd done. Dread bubbled up in my stomach and traveled to my chest, making the air feel heavy in my lungs.

I began walking towards the door, still flabbergasted that this place looked new to me, and that I couldn't remember a damn thing.

"Wait, I'm sorry. I don't want you to leave hungry," he said, and this time I heard some remorse in his tone. It didn't persuade me much, but for a reason unknown, I stopped.

"I make a mean omelet," he grinned, hopping out of bed and not paying attention to his nakedness. I tried not to either, but I was finding it very difficult.

I left the room to find my clothes, noticing the minimal decor in his apartment, and how it smelled of  Daniel's cologne and smoke. When I finally found what I was searching for, I quickly stepped into my pants, also sliding on my shirt.

---

I had been sucked in yet again, chowing down the breakfast Daniel had made because damn, I was hungry. Even though I wanted to hate him, God says we shouldn't hate anyone, and so I settled for intense detestation.

"So you really don't like me, do ya?"  Daniel asked, smiling light-heartedly. I nodded.
"May I ask why?"
I wanted to roll my eyes, but stopped myself.

Had it gotten hotter? It sure felt like it with the sweat beading above my lip, but it was most likely just the tense atmosphere squeezing my neck, making my head feel like it was going to pop.

"You're a bad person, and I don't care for bad people," was my response. I stared down at my plate and tried to swallow the lump in my throat. It's not that I considered myself a great person, mostly because I killed someone, but at least I was trying.
Daniel released a quick breath, a laugh of sorts.

"You don't even know me," he said, talking as if I was a child and he was my parent, teaching me a lesson.

"True. But I'm quite good at reading people," I defended quietly, a frown playing on my lips as I moved around food with my fork. Daniel raised an eyebrow, leaning forward as if to examine my expression.

"Is that so?" He asked with an amused stare, folding his hands in front of him. I nodded and brought the fork to my lips to take a bite.

"Then let's see if you read me correctly. I'm not exactly an open book," Daniel challenged, watching me intently as I set my utensil down and squinted in deep thought. We remained in uncomfortable silence for a short while until I finally spoke up.

"Do you want to know what I think?" I asked, a more serious look gracing my features. The truth is, I had already evaluated him and decided exactly what type of man he was. Now I was just contemplating if I should tell him.

He didn't need to answer– I already knew he wanted to hear what I had to say.

"I think," I began, pausing to chew the inside of my cheek, "You've spent too long being mad at the world for the hand you've been dealt. So long that you don't even remember what it's like to be content."

I saw his grin vanish as I said it, the truth of my  words slapping the ignorance right off of his stubbly face. I suppose he didn't appreciate that I decided not to sugarcoat anything, nonetheless, I felt no remorse. After all, he got what he paid for.

Daniel made a hum of agreement, obviously not knowing how to respond to my revelation. He cleared his throat and scratched the back of his neck.

"I didn't mean to be rude. It's just, well, you asked-" my words trailed off. Luckily, he butted in: "Don't be sorry, you're right."

With the hot air making me sick and the atmosphere squeezing my neck, I didn't want to be there any longer.

I left, wishing to never see Daniel again.