Style // 𝘾𝙝𝙖𝙧𝙡𝙚𝙨 𝙇𝙚𝙘𝙡𝙚𝙧𝙘

32.

I exhale deeply as I close my hotel room door, my head leaning heavily against cool paint. It's like there's weights attached to every limb on my body, and every strand on my hair is like lead. Another day of the race weekend down, one final day to go before we get to leave on Monday. I can return to my normal life, whether that's by Charles' side or not.

I drag myself into the room, dumping my bag on the vanity. It lethargically slumps down, a couple of things inside slipping out. My phone, a lip gloss, some chewing gum. A whole stack of leaflets that I randomly pick up and read during the day, as I have nothing else to do on my own. I take my lanyard off and place it on the side, the skin on the back of my neck relieved to feel the fresh air.

My phone lights up, all the notifications that I haven't been bothered to read pop open. The battery isn't good enough for me to use it all day nowadays, I only go on it when I'm sat down and have nothing else to gaze at as I zone out. Social media pop ups, work's group chat, and a stack of messages from Stella.

Stella
Mark just told me him and Elliot are finishing work early
They're on a half day
You should call him before you go to sleep

I glance at the digital clock on my bedside table, it looks like it's seen better days. It's 8pm, qualifying finished at 4pm. Charles could turn up at any minute, but that could also be any hour. I suck my cheeks together, biting on the soft tissue in thought. That's a bad habit I've picked up on recently. I run my tongue along one side, feeling a prominent edge that shouldn't be there.

I could do with talking to someone that isn't Stella, I wonder if Elliot feels the same about Mark. I perch on the end of my bed, taking my phone from the vanity as I do. I haven't spoke to Elliot since the morning after our date. That includes phoning, texting, physically seeing one another. Elliot's reason is pretty genuine enough to me, mine is almost meager.

Doesn't matter. I find his contact on my phone, pressing the call button before I can give myself time to doubt. My eyes settle on the maroon coloured door as my phone dials against my ear, expecting a knock just conveniently at the most inconvenient time. How sound proof is that door? Can someone hear me on the other side if they put their ear against it?

"Hey, Emma." Elliot sounds fatigued. "I'm so sorry I haven't text you, I've been so busy-"

"Stella's told me everything, don't worry about it, trust me." I swiftly interrupt him, already feeling guilty that he's the one apologising, not me. "I've been caught up a little bit as well, it's crazy how something can take over your life so quickly."

"Tell me about it." Elliot groans, dragging out a pause.

"Are you allowed to talk about the case?" I ask, looking at myself in the mirror and pretending it's Elliot.

"I think the whole of Monaco has heard this damn case." Elliot chuckles lowly, and I can feel his eye roll. "Some geology student at university attacked his classmate with a rock sample."

"A rock sample?!" I frown, already hooked on the case. "Why- where did he get a rock sample from?"

"He's a geology student, geology students carry all sorts of shit with them." Elliot giggles. "He fancied her, she barely saw him as a friend and had a crush on someone else, so he attacked her.

"Why does it need to be taken to court?" Surely he goes straight to jail?

"He claims he went into a non-insane automatism, said it won't happen again." Elliot explains, his voice already sounding dry and miserable. "But if he entered a dissociative state then it means it was insane automatism, and he needs psychological treatment for it."