Rouge

Rouge - Chapter Fourteen

Hunter moved like a ghost through the hallway. Her eyes were dry from tears and the cold wind outside, her throat hoarse and a sick feeling in her stomach. Maybe it was jitters from being in the dodgiest hotel in New York City. But she knew better. This was how it felt to have someone’s blood on your hands.

The room she chose was on the third floor, the highest point in the building. As she checked each door for her room number, shouts from a couple of doors down made her jump.

“Go on, live off your mother!” came a woman’s scream. “See if I care!”

A door was thrust open and Hunter froze as a man in an oversized jumper and dirty jeans fell out of the doorway and hit the opposite wall.

“Fuck you Annie!” he shouted and the door was slammed in his face. “You’ll come back to me, I swear to God!” He wiped a line of spit from his mouth and muttered, “Little shit,” before turning to Hunter. “What you lookin’ at, Strawberry Shortcake?”

Hunter looked away immediately, the hungry look in his eyes reminding her of the scrawny man lying dead in the alleyway. She burst into her room before he could shout at her some more, or before he saw her cry.

The strange smell of rotten carpet hit her directly in the face, the sense of ancient dust thick in the air. Hunter fumbled with the light switch and a tiny bulb hanging on a frayed cord lit up, giving the room an eerie golden glow. It was smaller than their kitchen back at the apartment, with a single bed against the right wall, a bathroom that hadn’t been cleaned and a space for a kitchen consisting of a single sink, a microwave and a fridge that came up to her hip. The window was open and ugly orange curtains frayed at the edges hung tattered from the roof.

Hunter stood for a very long time, staring at the room. But all she could see was the empty eyes of the homeless man, his blood and singed clothes, his fear. She threw her overnight bag on the bed and sat down, staring out the window at the black view of another building with no lights on.

Hunter needed to hold someone. She thought immediately of Eli, but then she forced him out of her mind. How could she look at him again after what she’d done? She was a killer. This power made her a murderer.

You were defending yourself, a voice reassured her. It was a familiar voice, but now it seemed to have a mind of its own. She knew it was the fire. They would have raped you. They deserved every bit of the pain.

Pain, yes. Death … no. No matter how vile that man was, he was still a person. And people deserve second chances.

I killed someone. There’s no excuse for that.

Those words repeated themselves over and over in her mind. Hunter chose to have a shower, but even if it washed away the smell of the greedy men, it didn’t wash away her guilt. She cried until she had no tears left, and then she fell back on the squeaky bed and slipped into darkness.