Bruce passes out like any other drunk does and I resurface in time to feel the alcohol. My feet are heavy and my balance is off but the motel is just up ahead.
"Dang it, Bruce." My vision is blurry and doubled but with the help of the wall beside me I make it back to the room. I trip over the threshold and stumble in, everyone's asleep. There's some relief when I see John sleeping in the chair and Star sleeping in the bed. I'm sorry for whatever Thierry said to you, now please tell me so I can mean my apology? I think as I climb in beside her. I shouldn't, I know I shouldn't because she's mad at me right now and because I didn't ask her but I just want to be next to her. When I lay beside her my arms reach around her of their own accord and I squeeze her and breath in the scent of motel soap.
"Frere Jacques." I sing it softly, she not awake and she's not scared or stressed, I just like singing the stupid child's rhyme to her because it's something she likes. Even though the song makes me taste bitterness and self-loathing. It's a small token from her past, one of the very few she kept.
"Frere Jacques." I hope I don't smell too bad. From the taste in my mouth Bruce really hit the shots hard and Star hates the smell of alcohol. I pull her against me and curl around her, she doesn't move, her breath is slow and steady.
YOU ARE READING
No Pain: Book 1
Teen FictionWhen you don't feel pain, what is there to fear? In a world where everyone is missing something: the fear gene, the pain signal, the cage of normal bones. Everyone has an advantage. Regular is no longer part of our dictionary. Regular is obsolete an...
