Hell's Kitchen: The Truth Behind the Papa Louie Universe

Chapter Thirty One

She squeezed her eyes shut one last time before carefully removing her arm, trying her best not to wake Olivia. She flexed her fingers. Maybe poor circulation was the problem, maybe...

It wasn't. She played this game all the time. She couldn't sleep, not for any mundane, fixable physical reason. She just couldn't . It wasn't a surprise. It wasn't even remotely irregular. Still, every night she carried the slight glimmer of hope that things would be different. She was so tired– there was no way she couldn't just pass out, perfect.

And every night she didn't and every evening she was more tired, and it was still a battle every single night, every single night . She blinked her watery eyes. They were sore, so so sore, closed and open alike. Maybe curing any one of her night-time maladies wouldn't fix the problem, but the discomfort didn't help. It all just kept building on itself.

The pillow felt scratchy against her cheek, and she rested her face on Olivia's shoulder. She hadn't stirred, thankfully, but her skin felt harsh too, like the pillow. It wasn't, she recognized, idly brushing a finger over her shoulder. It was her own damn skin, then, dry and sensitive, and she couldn't really do much about that. She rolled onto her back, covering her face in her hands, and heaved a sigh. Stuck her leg out of the blanket. Readjusted on the sheets. Stuck her hands under her pillow and Olivia's, under her head, folded over her stomach, her face... Pulled her knees to her chest and stretched out as far as she could and laid on her stomach and her back and both sides and...

She let out a sigh of frustration. She was tired, she felt so tired, and she couldn't sleep, and she wasn't going to. It wasn't something she could just try harder at. Nothing worked, and she didn't have the energy to give it time. She shut her eyes tighter still, until vague shapes formed and she opened them again because at least then the darkness was solid.

She felt like crying, now, she was so... exhausted. Anything, anything calming, relaxing. Anything. Her mind was blank, in a loud way, and she moved herself gingerly towards Olivia's back. Her heartbeat, her breath... comforting sounds, but they were no magical lullaby. Still, a wave of sleepiness washed over her, and for a second, she thought maybe that was it. Maybe she'd actually–

Ruined it. Her leg jerked reflexively, startling her.

She huffed, exasperated, and sat up. Then she got up, standing wobbly in the dark, arms spread to make sure she didn't run into anything on the way to the door.

Party Sub lay a few feet beyond it, and she shut the door quickly and quietly behind her. The windows of the main room let moonlight shine through, and she didn't want to wake Olivia.

Party Sub lifted his head as she walked past, and soon he rubbed against her legs. She scratched his head and shushed him as he threatened to meow.

"Sweet baby," She whispered, and he rolled onto his side, curling around her hand as she rubbed his belly.

There was a sense of anticipation in the dark room that excited her. And really, there was only one thing she could do this early– research. Over the past handful of weeks, she'd picked it up again. Nothing big, like they had been doing what felt like forever ago, back before everything fell into chaos. Just... looking over stuff. Getting it straight. Trying to pull connections. She'd missed it, and maybe things had gotten worse because they stopped, not the other way around.

The past few weeks had managed to feel purposeful– whether they were or not. She needed to feel that, feel anything but deeply, desperately sad. She needed to feel useful. Occupied.

She'd taken the binders downstairs with her to work, a few times. She'd taken notes on the customers that had come in, ethical or not. It didn't matter, she'd be gone soon. And they wouldn't know anyway.