lie to me → s.d.

.15 | complete standstill

MAHAJANGA, MADAGASCAR
2 DAYS LATER

Theodora's motel bathroom smelled like an outhouse at a music festival - that was to say, like shit and cigarettes out on the reused towels. She didn't dare even going near the stiff, off-white excuses for wash clothes hanging limp from the rusty bar against the far wall. Walking with her bare feet on the chipped tan tiles even sent goosebumps up her spine, because the entire bathroom was small enough to turn into a shower, and she didn't trust that within an inch of her life.

She had angled herself in an awkward pretzel-like knot, trying to reach the alcohol-soaked rag to the open would around the back of her shoulder. Pushing her elbow as far as it would go without dislocating, she barely tapped the edge of the gash before releasing herself. A painful ache stung at the muscles above her breasts, protesting to being stretched so far, and she exhaled softly. She knew she couldn't do it by herself, but she would be damned if she didn't try.

Theodora left her bra strap hanging below her shoulder, too afraid to anger the wound even further, and went into the actual room to pull on a pair of pants. The motel was set close to the fishing docks of the small oceanside town, and even here with the doors and windows shut, she could smell the raw odor of salty scales and pale, ever-seeing eyes. She liked sushi as much as the next person, but god - it was as if this was the seafood's way of getting back at humans for eating them.

She gathered the medical supplies and her phone and crossed the tiny room to the front door, passing her laptop still left open on the mothball-ridden bed. The lamp illuminated the half-asleep screen, flickering with every other minute. 'Nadine Ross' had been typed into the search bar, which struggled desperately for a connection, and the results all centered around a demolition company called Shoreline founded and managed by a woman of the same name. It seemed that Nadine had the muscle, and Adler had the money. The perfect kind of team.

Hugging the medical supplies to her chest in a feeble attempt to hide the fact she wasn't wearing a shirt, she pattered across the small distance between her room and the men's. She knocked on the door and waited for an invitation in, glancing over her bare, pink and raw shoulder for any eyes wandering where they shouldn't be. When someone called, she let herself in and quickly shut the door behind her, feeling small and vulnerable in such an unfamiliar area.

She found Sam inside reading a book, and Sam inside alone. "Hey," he said, unfazed by the fact that she was half-naked. "The guys went out for dinner. How's your room?"

Theodora took a look around. "Half better than yours," she said and crinkled her nose. It smelled like both the fish outside and the odor of boys living together. Bleh. She dropped the supplies on the edge of the bed as he sat up, creasing a dog ear in the page of his book. "You shouldn't do that, you know. It hurts the paper."

He released a tired-sounding sigh from deep in his throat. "Noted." He picked up the rag spotted with the few blood droplets that had escaped her wound when she pulled the bandage off. "You need help?"

There weren't any other words exchanged as they situated themselves, because there weren't any more needed. Sam scooted himself to the edge of the bed and let his legs hang over the side, between which she sat with her back facing him. He moved her hair aside and wet the cloth with a new blotting of alcohol, then dabbed it to the J-shaped laceration on her shoulder. She sucked in a sharp breath when the razor-sharp pain shot through the exposed muscle and she stiffened, her hand curling around his calf for something to hold onto. They listened to the noises from outside as he mopped up the few dots of blood he drew; there were people speaking Malagasy and French, a cat in heat yowling somewhere in an alley, the growing and fading motors of bikes passing like seasons. There was something so wonderfully quiet about the moment, something so subtly sweet and romantic neither of them were quite able to ignore.