Around the Corner (Discontinued)

Chapter 30

When I woke up, I didn't know where I was, or who I was.

I first experienced the feeling shortly after moving to Los Angeles. I woke up in random hotel rooms far from Hawaii, and I couldn't piece together where I was. I was astonished at the amount of what I was could be tied to the bed I woke up in to the morning. I was also astonished at how fragile that could be.

Then, I was Bruno. I was in a bed which was not mine, pressed against the wall of a room I've never been to. Asleep on my chest was a woman. Her coarse hand was curled over my shoulder. I carefully moved out of our tangled embrace, gingerly uncurling her hand. As I picked up my strewn clothes in darkness, I accidentally found a dress tailored perfectly to the figure of the woman on the bed. She slept quietly, undisturbed. My thoughts were not well-rounded and a battering headache drummed against them. Hangover. I knew the effects like a brother, one I did not particularly like.

I directed my attention to the woman. She was older than I was. She was the other half of the inhabitants of this nearly bare room. Or so I thought.

At first, I couldn't be sure. The room was devoid of anything but silence and darkness. There was a window, but we were elevated. Behind the glass, a navy sky, soon to be broken by dawn, was set like wallpaper behind the trees. Leaves casted strange shapes on the floor, but there was nothing more.

I went completely silent. I hushed my thoughts and held my breath, quieting myself. My silence was fruitful. I heard voices. Muffled voices. Almost like the voice used when I spoke with inside of my head, which was not mine, but someone else's. These were real voices, however, I was sure. I followed their volume to the edge of the room and met a shut door. Behind the wood, the sound was hidden.

I distinguished multiple different voices. One was low, and belonged to a male. It sounded repetitive and said the same thing over and over, like a conscience. Another voice was feminine and sounded like music. And then I heard another one. The voice was familiar.

After hastily leaving the room and the sleeping woman, I darted blindly down a flight of stairs. I missed the last step, and my face was crushed against a surface as I tripped. I staggered back, grunting. When I pulled my fingers back from my face, they glistened with crimson. Panicked, I groped for a door handle, and as soon as I found one, I twisted. The door flew open, and I stumbled outside. I ran. I ran as fast as I possibly could.

I didn't go very far. I ran into a potted plant after a few feet. Dark soil and clay fragments covered the ground as I swore under my breathe, the headache becoming violently worse as dizziness took ahold. I staggered forward. I was surrounded by plenty of trees and night, with a body suffering from the effects of alcohol. Lost. I was lost.

"Look what the cat dragged in."

I turned. The man took a long drag of his cigarette, the end glowing faintly. I couldn't view his face, but I could faintly trace out loose curls in the gentle light of his cigarette.

"Who are you?" I slurred. My head pounded and my legs were unstable. I feared I might stumble at any movement, so I stayed where I was.

"Don't matter," he said, "you're pissed and out in the middle of nowhere. You know better than to be asking questions."

"What?" I glanced down at my crotch, confused.

"No, you idiot," he hissed, "you've been drinking too much. You're underage, too. Don't know how you got your hands on it."

"I don't remember," I mumbled. I pressed my palm on my forehead, unable to decide if I was unnaturally warm or if my fingers were. Every thought was blurred and had contorted, and I didn't want to trust unreliable memories for explanations. The woman I left sleeping behind was hidden amongst those distorted memories, full of lust and desire.