Motel Seven

Red Eyes

Dmitri slowly, hesitantly, walked back to the lobby. He felt lighter now, since he had let out what felt like 100 pounds of urine, but he also felt twice as heavy. He was weighed down with guilt.

"You can't let him get to you..." He muttered to himself, rubbing his neck nervously and glancing around as he did.

He felt guilt and shame. He felt as though his grandmother had just watched him pee on James' car. Oh, how she would be screaming at him. He could hear her high pitched nagging all the way from her grave.

Dmitri came to a halt, still rubbing his neck a little.

What if it wasn't his grandmothers eyes he had felt, but James'?

"Oh fuck Mr. All-American." He snapped, his guilt briefly being replaced with anger.

Popov looked down at his feet, silent. Why did he even stop here?

"Hey Pope! I cleaned your can!" James popped out of Dmitri's room, a big smile pasted across his face. In one arm he was carrying a bucket with a few handles sticking out of it, probably from cleaning supplies. In his other arm, a cluster of white struggled, seemingly unhappy with its current situation.

"How..."

Dmitri looked quickly to the door of the lobby, looking in the window.

The... cat?

James came up towards Dmitri fast. He practically bounced as he walked, like a puppy who's happy to see its owner.

"Pope! Hear me? I nearly barfed!" Before Dmitri knew it, James was only a foot or so away from him.

"How many cats do you have?"

"Huh?" James hesitated, his smile faltering briefly.

Dmitri repeated himself.

"One. Sammy." He lifted up the cat a little, his smile as strong as ever. The cat seemed uninterested in both of the men, instead looking past Dmitri.

"One?" Dmitri's eyes seemed glued to the snow white fur. Then the cat finally looked at him, and he was certain. That's the same cat. It had the same reddish pink eyes.

James nodded, then put the cat down. It nearly jumped out of James' arms, quickly rushing past Dmitri, brushing against his leg as it did.

Dmitri followed it past him, moving his head a little, until James called his attention back.

"Ace. I cleaned it."

Dmitri snapped his neck around, almost giving himself whiplash as he did.

Why was he acting so strange?

Something just felt... Off.

"Thanks." He muttered, then brushed past James and hurried towards his room. The door had been left open so he didn't even have to dig out his key. He shut the door as he walked in, then kicked off his shoes and threw himself onto the bed. He'd left the covers on, which were probably even filthier than the toilet had been, since he was pretty sure the top cover was never ever washed in any hotel.

At this point, he didn't care though. The cover could have vomit on it and he would probably still stay exactly how he was.

Today had been a long, shitty day.

He just wanted it to be over.

But it was only just beginning.