Where the fuck am I?
It wasn't my bed, and that made no sense.
Turning, I looked over the quiet, clean room, and recognized Jacob's place. It was still dark out, the windows showing a hint of blue. The clock on his microwave blinked at me. It's seven in the morning, what woke me up?
The blanket tumbled off of me when I sat up. On the opposite couch I saw my pants and jacket. They'd been folded neatly.
I remembered everything.
That other couch was where we'd bent Marina, tasting her sweet cries. Felt every curve of her body, left fingerprints on her soul. My cock was getting hard at the memory. Shifting myself in my boxers, I stood up.
I was feeling better, more clear headed. Yes, it hadn't been alcohol I'd been drunk on. I didn't need to purge this poison out of me.
There was a blanket on the other couch. Lifting it, I looked around curiously. Marina slept here. We were both so beat, Jacob just threw blankets on us when we passed out.
But her clothes were no where. Not even her shoes.
Rubbing my neck, I made a leap of logic. If her heels were missing, she must have left the apartment. Where had she gone?
I dressed quietly, promising myself I'd return the clothes to Jacob eventually. The hallway had an eerie vibe, the kind you got when everyone else in the world around you was sleeping.
I felt alone, the last man alive.
When I reached my door, I turned the knob—found it unlocked. Marina had a key, I'd given it to her after I'd finished moving her in. Now, she could get into my place and Jacob's.
She was unlocking more than our apartment doors, lately.
Cracking it, I found what I was searching for. Marina was facing away from me, sitting on the couch in front of the only light source she'd turned on—my television. The big flat-screen was flickering, the volume low. She was watching the news.
In her hands, she had a bowl of cereal. A mug was empty on the coffee table. I knew it had contained hot chocolate. How long had she been awake? She wasn't wearing that red dress anymore, she'd put on black stretch pants and a loose fitting white T-shirt.
In the glow of the TV, her tan skin was oddly blue.
She didn't hear me enter. I stood there, watching the back of her head, the way she would hold the spoon in her mouth for a long moment after each bite.
The channel she was watching was flashing through different things; the weather, current events, breaking coverage. I was just closing the door when I heard the man on the screen talking about something that prickled with unease.
He was discussing a body.
“—was found on the lower east side in an alley. Police say the body had been there for some time, but it has yet to be identified. So far, they haven't said if the death is suspicious.”
My eyes fixed on the TV. Marina hadn't stopped eating, her body language told me she didn't think this news was important.
I had other ideas.
The corpse was certainly Hecko's, the man Jacob had told me he'd learned Lars' name from.
Frank's nephew.
The news said it wasn't suspicious... yet. If Jacob was as confident as he seemed, then Hecko would look like an accident. An alcoholic who had choked on his own vomit.
Still, seeing the news talking about him made me nervous. Stepping forward, I put my foot down firmly—enough to make the floor squeak intentionally.
She jumped, twisting with the spoon held up as a weapon. Her eyes were wide. Beautiful. I loved how big they got when she was overwhelmed. Especially if I was the cause.
“Oh, Kite,” she said. “You scared me. I didn't hear you come in.” Turning back to the TV, she stirred her cereal.
Smiling, I sat on the arm of the couch closest to her. My hand wandered to the remote. “I didn't want to surprise you, sorry. When did you wake up?”
Her shrug was light. “I think an hour ago.”
Now that I was closer, I could see the wet fringes of her hair. She'd taken a shower and eaten, she'd been awake longer than an hour.
I had a pretty good idea what had woken her up. It was the same thing I'd heard yanking her from sleep, making her whimper in the early hours, the first night she'd spent here. Since then, I'd heard her having many more.
“The nightmares you have,” I said gently, seeing her stiffen. “What are they about?”
Marina pushed the wet clumps around in her bowl. “I guess it's stupid to try and ask what you're talking about.” Her lips pursed. It was a bitter look, I wanted to kiss it away. “Have I woken you up before? Am I that loud?”
“No,” I lied. “Just once or twice.”
She put the bowl aside, adjusting to face me. “When I was younger, I had to stay with an aunt of mine, after my family died. She didn't like me much, and I always suspected it was because I'd wake her up every night with my screaming.” Her dark eyes flashed away. “Sorry if it's bad for you. It was always bad for everyone.”