❝he burns like the nicotine that coats your lungs and the liquor sliding down your throat, but you can't leave him. you swear to yourself that you will, one day, but you're not ready to let this go. he's not good for you, and you know it, but you ca...
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"THAT'D BE TOO EASY, BABE," Milan rolled her eyes at the pet name that Robbie tended to use.
"First of all, don't call me babe," she took a drag of her cigarette, the smoke filling up the motel room. She was pretty sure this was a non-smoking room, but she didn't have time to go outside. More people were going to die if this case wasn't solved. "Second of all, you should've been there. He was so calm and sweet before I asked him about his opinion on gays."
"Wow," Robbie raised his eyebrows. "What a douche."
"Tell me about it," she scoffed. "I'm all for religion unless you preach love and then hate." There was a pause, Robbie nodding.
"Will you stop killing yourself?" Robbie spoke suddenly, moving closer to Milan.
"I'm going to die eventually," she shrugged, taking another drag. "What's the point in trying to slow it down? If the cigarettes don't kill me first, a monster will."
"That's no way to think," Robbie sighed, laying down beside her on the bed, looking at the laptop that rested on her thighs.
"Ever since my family died," she began, inhaling the thick smoke. The room was hazy, grey and almost euphoric. "I haven't really seen the point. Is this life that I live really worth it? Sleeping in seedy motels and travelling the country not knowing whether or not I'm going to be dead tomorrow? Living day to day, not committing to a relationship, not able to get married, afraid of having kids. It's not just that; not the intimate stuff. It's about family, and not having anyone left. What is that? Why do I even bother? Who cares about me?"
"For starters," Robbie began, turning towards her and tracing her shoulders. "I care about you. So do all those people you save. You have an impact on them. Because of you, they get to live. See their kids graduate from high school and go off to college. Get married. Buy a house and get a job and live normal, mundane lives. The white picket fence and the cul-de-sac barbecues they've always wanted."
"But what about me?" She asked, standing up, flinching away from Robbie, moving toward the door, opening it and stomping out her cigarette on the pavement. "I don't get to have that. I'm too busy living for other people that I don't get to have a life myself."
Robbie didn't say anything after that. The two sat in silence, alone but together, in the soft light the lamps on their nightstands emitted. At some point, Milan fell into a deep sleep, ending up in Robbie's arms, her white t-shirt straining against her body. Her hair was a tangled, greasy mess, and she felt dirty, but she didn't possess the energy to get up and shower.
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"Hey, Milan!" Robbie shook the woman awake, her eyes fluttering open softly, the wings of a butterfly. "I think I figured it out." She propped herself up on her elbow, moving closer to the man with the laptop in his grasp.
