closed eyelids. I laid on the floor and dreamed of sleep.
I've never been a very conflicted man, at least not since I came home. I gave up on concern, caution and consequences a ways back. It was all just so unnecessarily cumbersome. Every once in a while, despite my best efforts, I'd slip up and need a reminder. Fortunately there was always a Tash, or in this case, a Flora, to show me the futility of sympathy.
With closed eyes, my hands lightly stroked the polished hardwood of my makeshift bed. I counted the grooves, stubbornly trying to fill my head with something other than the girl gently sleeping two feet away.
I was doing the right thing. I was giving her what she wanted, really. In the end, Flora just wanted to go back to where I'd found her. Who was I to interrupt a death wish?
I worked my fingertips over the wood grain and into the gaped seams that commonly accompanied the rustic barn look, idly scratching at the minute nub of one tiny jutting nail. I was trying to forget the way Flora's smooth flesh had drunk in the yellow light just a few hours before.
The night was dark and busy with justifications and mental distractions as I laid awake listening to the slight, sweet pull of air from my rescued prize-turned-prisoner.
When the morning finally broke, it swept all the shadows into my heart. In an odd, real way, this was the first time I'd spent the whole night with a girl in as long as I could remember. I told myself the reason I couldn't sleep was because she might escape, and if she did, I'd have nothing to offer the Knights when they showed up later.
I sighed. The truth was annoyingly more complicated. I knew what Flora was up to the moment I'd walked in and saw her in that robe. Under any other circumstances, I'd have egged her on, taken the charade as far as it could go and gotten off.
Why didn't I? What had changed?
It wasn't just the news about my club. I did my best fucking after funerals. Sex consoled me.
Flora's sister...
The notion of throwing yourself into certain death for the love of someone else—it was fucking ridiculous. Admirable, sure.
Or it would've been—if her story was even remotely true.
No, from the way Flora tried to play me, I knew she was just looking to get back on the free heroin train like all the other girls at that brothel. I'd never met a more convincing actor than a junkie looking to get high.
Hell, in my darker days, I could've been on Broadway. But now that I was clean, how many times did I have to learn that fucking lesson the hard way?
Besides, I thought back to a dusty hotel in Afghanistan, Selflessness is strictly for the foolish and the dead. Back then, I had been both.
It wasn't a mistake I'd ever make again.
I blinked open my eyes and stared into the swirled plaster pattern on the ceiling. I had better luck sprouting wings than getting any sleep, so what was I still doing lying on the floor?
The soothing sound of Flora's breathing was a calm tide that ate up my every ambition to move. She was out cold, and would be for a while, now that she was detoxing.
Everything about this girl and the situation with her and my club was all so foreign and fucked up to me. I'd screwed up pretty seriously this time, and if I stayed on the floor and fantasized that Flora was something other than what I knew she was, I was going to lose my goddamn mind.
I rolled over and pushed myself up off the floor, heading into the bathroom to take a leak and brush my teeth. When I was done, I saw and smelled the funky pile of her clothes that were sitting on the top of the toilet tank. I hoped the Knights brought her something to change into, because that outfit was fit only for burning. How long had they had her?
Fuck it, it doesn't matter.
Twenty-four hours ago Flora wasn't my problem, and twenty-four hours from now, this girl and all my troubles would be just a distant memory.
I headed toward the door that would lead to freedom from all this emotional confusion. I just needed
I've never been a very conflicted man, at least not since I came home. I gave up on concern, caution and consequences a ways back. It was all just so unnecessarily cumbersome. Every once in a while, despite my best efforts, I'd slip up and need a reminder. Fortunately there was always a Tash, or in this case, a Flora, to show me the futility of sympathy.
With closed eyes, my hands lightly stroked the polished hardwood of my makeshift bed. I counted the grooves, stubbornly trying to fill my head with something other than the girl gently sleeping two feet away.
I was doing the right thing. I was giving her what she wanted, really. In the end, Flora just wanted to go back to where I'd found her. Who was I to interrupt a death wish?
I worked my fingertips over the wood grain and into the gaped seams that commonly accompanied the rustic barn look, idly scratching at the minute nub of one tiny jutting nail. I was trying to forget the way Flora's smooth flesh had drunk in the yellow light just a few hours before.
The night was dark and busy with justifications and mental distractions as I laid awake listening to the slight, sweet pull of air from my rescued prize-turned-prisoner.
When the morning finally broke, it swept all the shadows into my heart. In an odd, real way, this was the first time I'd spent the whole night with a girl in as long as I could remember. I told myself the reason I couldn't sleep was because she might escape, and if she did, I'd have nothing to offer the Knights when they showed up later.
I sighed. The truth was annoyingly more complicated. I knew what Flora was up to the moment I'd walked in and saw her in that robe. Under any other circumstances, I'd have egged her on, taken the charade as far as it could go and gotten off.
Why didn't I? What had changed?
It wasn't just the news about my club. I did my best fucking after funerals. Sex consoled me.
Flora's sister...
The notion of throwing yourself into certain death for the love of someone else—it was fucking ridiculous. Admirable, sure.
Or it would've been—if her story was even remotely true.
No, from the way Flora tried to play me, I knew she was just looking to get back on the free heroin train like all the other girls at that brothel. I'd never met a more convincing actor than a junkie looking to get high.
Hell, in my darker days, I could've been on Broadway. But now that I was clean, how many times did I have to learn that fucking lesson the hard way?
Besides, I thought back to a dusty hotel in Afghanistan, Selflessness is strictly for the foolish and the dead. Back then, I had been both.
It wasn't a mistake I'd ever make again.
I blinked open my eyes and stared into the swirled plaster pattern on the ceiling. I had better luck sprouting wings than getting any sleep, so what was I still doing lying on the floor?
The soothing sound of Flora's breathing was a calm tide that ate up my every ambition to move. She was out cold, and would be for a while, now that she was detoxing.
Everything about this girl and the situation with her and my club was all so foreign and fucked up to me. I'd screwed up pretty seriously this time, and if I stayed on the floor and fantasized that Flora was something other than what I knew she was, I was going to lose my goddamn mind.
I rolled over and pushed myself up off the floor, heading into the bathroom to take a leak and brush my teeth. When I was done, I saw and smelled the funky pile of her clothes that were sitting on the top of the toilet tank. I hoped the Knights brought her something to change into, because that outfit was fit only for burning. How long had they had her?
Fuck it, it doesn't matter.
Twenty-four hours ago Flora wasn't my problem, and twenty-four hours from now, this girl and all my troubles would be just a distant memory.
I headed toward the door that would lead to freedom from all this emotional confusion. I just needed
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