I woke in a bed.
A dark room.
A motel room.
Not a very nice one.
Thin light reached around heavy drapes at the window.
The scent of the musty sheets and quilt drifted to my nose.
Faded green paint on the walls. Several paintings depicting old schooners at sea amid crashing waves.
The familiar ache in my head now cold, dull.
I sat up and pulled back the sheets.
I wore nothing but my underwear.
I looked to the back of the room, already knowing what I’d find, although my heart still leaped in my chest when I saw it—my clothes, wet and dark. in a pile against the wall.
I sat there, willing this to be a dream, hoping this room would fade away and be replaced with something else, anything else, but nothing changed. My senses grew keenly aware of the layer of dust covering damn near everything, of the mold my mind pictured feasting inside the walls, and of the faint sound of water dripping. A single drop, followed by another half a minute later.
The bathroom light was on.
An exhaust fan whirred.
The door closed all but a crack.
I told my body to move, but it didn’t, wouldn’t, not at first. When my legs finally went over the side of the bed, they felt as if they each weighed a hundred pounds. My toes curled into the worn carpet. I forced myself to stand.
Another drop of water.
I forced myself to move.
The room seemed to stretch out in front of me, growing longer with each step I took toward the bathroom. I passed my clothes, but I didn’t look down. I couldn’t. I refused to take a breath, knowing it would bring with it the familiar scent of copper, the scent of blood.
When I reached the bathroom, my hand rose all on its own and touched the door; my fingertips quivered on the wood.
The door opened all too easily.
Water filled the tub to the rim. There were several puddles on the scuffed white tile.
Another drop fell from the tub’s faucet and struck the water with a plop, sending ripples across it.
She was several inches below the surface.
Eyes closed.
Brown hair floating slightly, nearly still.
Her toned legs were folded awkwardly, her knees protruding from the water and resting against the wall. Her arms were at her sides, one hand gently pressed against her thigh.
A single air bubble rose from her pale lips.
Oh God, what have I done?