Page 43 of Fear Me Not

I raise my trembling hand and point in the direction of the bank of washers. “Under there, I think.”

“I’ll set some traps. If there’s one, there’ll be more. Can’t have them chewing through the wiring. That’ll be a fucking nightmare.”

This already feels like a fucking nightmare, but I keep my mouth shut.

Blake reaches down and pulls me to my feet. “What are you doing down here, anyway?”

“Laundry.”

He glances around again and sees the machines are all empty. “Where is it?”

“Got stuck in the chute.” After this new development, that I bled all over my sheets and mattress no longer seems like a big deal. “I got my period during the night. It was a bloodbath.” I swallow hard.

“Aww, crap. Don’t worry about the sheets. We’ve got plenty. Let’s just get you some new ones.”

I don’t tell him my pajamas were also in there. They’re probably ruined anyway, and there’s no way I’m risking interfering with the chute again. I’d prefer to forget they ever existed.

“My mattress needs flipping, too,” I admit. “I’m sorry.”

He puts his arm around my shoulders and gives me a hug. Perhaps I should push him away, but I appreciate his solid warmth and lean into him.

“Wow, that rat really freaked you out, didn’t it? You’re still shaking. Let’s get you out of here.”

I allow him to lead me back up the stairs. I’m relieved to be out of the laundry room, but the memory of that cold touch is right at the front of my mind. I need a distraction, a way of reminding myself I’m still real, I’m still alive. The solid, warm body next to mine is one way of doing that.

We stop by the linen closet—which is more of a walk-in room—on the way back and Blake selects some clean sheets. Then we head back to my bedroom. 113. My gaze alights on the ‘13’ part. I’ve never been a particularly superstitious person, but still I can’t help wondering if that’s the reason I’ve been so unlucky. Perhaps I should ask Blake to change rooms, though I don’t really want to. This feels like my space now.

The room is a mess.

I’d managed to sponge off the mattress, but it’s still damp, and I can’t sleep in the wet spot.

Blake flips it with ease. “I can get you a new one from one of the other bedrooms, if you prefer?”

“No, it’s fine, honest. It didn’t go all the way through.” Besides, if I’m still bleeding heavily, the last thing I want is to ruin another one of his mattresses. I’m feeling guilty enough. But I prefer to focus on that emotion rather than the one of abject terror that I’d experienced down in the basement.

“You haven’t been drawing,” he observes.

I can’t look at him. “No.”

“Why not?”

“It’s hard to explain. The urge just doesn’t take me when I’m…” I struggle for the right words. “In turmoil.”

His voice softens. “And you’re in turmoil now?”

Those damned tears are close again. I’m hormonal and shaken up, and it’s not a good combination. “You know I am. You broke my fucking heart.”

His hand finds my face, and he brushes away a tear that escapes my eye with his thumb. “Oh, sweet girl. That was never my intention. I hate that you’re not drawing because of me. You’re so talented. Your work should be hung in galleries all over the world for people to marvel at.”

I give a small, choked laugh. “I’d be happy for someone just to have a piece hung in their living room.”

“That will happen, one day, I swear to you.”

“Not while I’m trapped here, like a prisoner.”

“Only until the end of winter when the pass opens back up. We just need to get through the next few months.”

And then what? I want to ask him, but I don’t want to know the answer. Will I leave? Where will I go? Will the police track me down and question me about Tobias? They’re bound to, surely? Then what will I say? That we had a fight and he left before I woke up? How would Dov cope with an investigation? My head spins with all the questions, overwhelming me. I don’t want to think about the next few months, here at the hotel, but I can’t stand to contemplate what comes next either.