The questions are endless and my answers are non-existent. "What's next?" I ask the man. "Are you going to rough me up until I give you whatever answer you seem to want?"
The man pushes away from the metal table we're sitting at and paces the room, back and forth a dozen times, trying to cause paranoia. I visually follow his every step, grinning at his attempt to crack me. "We’re trying to protect you, but you need to cooperate. You can walk away from this."
"I don’t have to do a damn thing," I tell him. "I know my rights." This isn’t my burden to bear. They can get this information from where it originated, not what they assume to be the weaker link.
"Fine," he says. Walking over to the wall near the door, he messes with a small box that looks like a thermostat and turns back to me. "I'm getting a cup of coffee. Want anything?"
I look down at my wrists, which are connected to the table I'm seated at. "No, I'm good."
"I'll be right back," he says with a wink.
* * *
Six hours pass with no sight of this government agent. There hasn't been a speck of sound or action inside or outside of this small room since the man left, but the heat was cranked to a sauna level, and I know this is his way of making me sweat it out. The only thing he has caused, however, is a migraine and irritability.
The door reopens and the man walks in with a cup of coffee in hand. "Anyway, where were we?"
"You left me in here six fucking hours ago. That's where we were," I seethe.
"I had to get a cup of coffee," he explains with a wry smirk.
"Don't you have rules you're supposed to follow?" I ask.
"No rules that specify how long it takes to get a cup of coffee."
"Whatever," I sigh, leaning back in my chair as far as I can go without moving my throbbing wrists.
"You're going to tell us. You don't have a choice," he says. "You're wasting your own time and creating your own pain."
"I have nothing to tell you, like I said. I still don’t understand why I’m here."
The man sits down in front of me, folding his hands on top of the table. "See, here's the funny thing … Dr. Phillips is behind bars already, and the rest of your worthless friends are dead. You're protecting no one, and this is all for nothing."
"Dr. Phillips?" I ask.
"Don't start," the asshole says.
"You know, what you didn't consider is that I'm not who you're looking for, and that maybe the person you need answers from is dead, or, even worse, so close to you, you'd be sick to find out the truth. Maybe this ... Dr. Phillips … person you've mentioned had the ending to this exact situation worked out long ago, and you're just a playing piece in his game."
The banging sound might be in my head, but I'm certain it's coming from the door of my hotel room. What the hell?
I glance over at the alarm clock, finding it's only six in the morning. The sun isn't even out. Come on. I want sleep. "What?" I shout, gruffly.
There's no answer. Goddammit. I pull myself out of bed, feeling a throb thunder through both my eyes. Oops. Opening the door, I'm greeted by Everett, coffee, and a bag of something. "Breakfast?" he asks.
"Did Axel send you?" Nope. Axel did not send you. I'm quite sure about this.
"Nah," he says. "I figured you feel just about as awesome as I do right now and we have somewhere to be in an hour."
I'm in no mood to argue, so I turn back to the bed, letting him in. "Fall asleep with your bra on last night?" he asks with quiet laughter.
"You have to be shitting me," I groan before climbing back into bed.
"Axel's pissed, huh?" he asks.
"That's putting it lightly," I respond, pulling the sheets over my lap.
"We've been friends for fifteen years now and the guy literally has two different moods. Pissed or slightly amused," he explains.
I don't find this shocking. Those are definitely the only two emotions I've seen him show over the past week. "So then, what's his story?"
Everett hands me a coffee and a muffin. "That should soak up some of the alcohol," he says. As I begin nibbling on the sweet pastry, Everett sits down in the guest chair and lifts his feet, resting them on the edge of my bed. "Axel's story isn't a pretty one. We're all here for our own reasons, you know?"
"Yeah, I know that. So, what's his?"
"That's not my story to tell," he says, carefully sipping through the steam of his coffee.
Everett and I quietly eat our breakfast and suck down as much coffee as possible before the hotel room door opens again. Axel decided not to knock, and instead, he just enters as if it's a normal thing to do. I could have been walking around here naked for all he knew. Maybe that's what he was hoping. The joke’s on him, though. I'm still in my clothes from last night. "You're twenty minutes early," I tell him.
"Was I interrupting something?" he asks, glaring at Everett.
"No, but I bet you’re glad to see I’m still alive this morning," Everett responds.
Everett looks at me with a chunk of muffin hanging from his beard, lifts the back of his hand to his mouth and mutters, "He's totally not even slightly amused," Everett says to me with a mouthful while pointing at Axel as if he wasn’t listening. While I want to laugh at Everett's remark, I decide it's best not to piss Axel off more than he is.
"The only thing interrupted this morning was my sleep," I argue.
"Dude, I just brought her breakfast. I figured she'd need it after last night," Everett grovels as he stands from his chair and wipes his mouth again, this time on his sleeve, like the gentleman he is. I close my eyes again, trying not to laugh.
"Hmm. Well, it looks like you've both eaten, so maybe now you can go get dressed, Harley," Axel says to me in an authoritative, scolding manner.
I tear the sheet off my lap and grab some of the new clothes out of the bags I left on the desk. I feel both stare at me as I cross the room, and feel a sense of relief when I close myself into the bathroom. I can only wonder what kind of conversation they're about to have. Whatever the case is, my head hurts too much to care.
I place my clean clothes down on the sink’s countertop and slip out of my clothes from last night, letting them drop to the floor. I pull the shower curtain open, feeling the squeal from the metal rod slice down the center of my head. Jesus. I crank the water on, knowing the ice cold will snap me out of my haze, but I want the steam more.
After stepping inside, I drown my head beneath the powerful stream of water, rinsing every shitty feeling off my body before I grab the sample size bottle of shampoo. I dump the whole bottle onto the top of my head, inhaling as much of the steam-infused flowery scent as I can.
I could stay here all day. Maybe I should. I doubt either would have the balls to come in after me. I don’t think. Then again, I shouldn’t put anything past either of them.
Despite my desire, I’m not in the mood to be testing Axel’s patience today so I lather up, rinse and repeat before scrubbing my body with the bar of soap. If only my insides felt as good as my skin, the day ahead might not be so bad, but there’s no way of cleansing my soul.
Stalling and all, I'm out of the shower within five minutes and dressed in the new clean clothes I had left on the sink. I run my fingers through my hair, tussling it so it doesn’t dry flattened to my head. Good enough, I think to myself while snarling at my reflection.
As I step out of the bathroom, I find Axel and Everett in the heated discussion I assumed they were having. I'm not sure what the context is about, but I know Axel was pretty ticked at Everett last night. "I'm ready, whenever you two are done bickering like an old married couple," I tell them. "I told you'd I'd be ready by seven."
Axel peers down at his watch and presses his lips together with what looks like defeat as if he were hoping to have something else to hold above my head, "Great, thank you for following one order," he says.
"Stop giving out so many orders and you won’t have to suffer with so much disappointment," I retort.
"Be quiet, will you?"