The Ocean’s City

Dalton’s eyes cast from mine to the bags in his hands. He didn’t bother to elaborate. Instead, He found the small of my back and used his hand to usher me into the motel.

It smelled musky and far from a comfortable room. Dalton left me standing awkwardly as he switched the lights on and got everything situated. He didn’t seem to match the place. He looked and dressed like a man with money. This room screamed cheap whores and liquor.

“Silvestia come here.” He demanded as he began to pull items from the two duffle bags. His shoulders were still tense with anger as I approached him, but his eyes, although filled with disappointment, also had a hint of another emotion: sympathy.

It disappeared as he continued to give orders. “You are not to leave the room without my permission. Get showered and ready for bed. I have to go and make some phone calls.”

I nodded my head, feeling tears pool into my eyes, but they were for selfish reasons. I wanted him to drop the hard exterior and kiss my wounds away. Instead, he nodded, ignoring my tears, and left the room.

The door shut behind him, and I was unbearably alone.

I didn’t rush to get ready for bed. My body moved on autopilot as I did everything in my power to not think. The only thought I allowed to overpower my mind was the contents of my duffle bag.

It had everything in it. This bag took time and thought to pack. It was hard to picture Dalton coming home, realizing I was gone, and packing such a neat and collected bag.

My eyes landed on his bag. My eyes glanced from the hotel door to see it was closed and carefully unzipped his bag. It was equally as organized, but an orange bottle lay on the top.

At first, I didn’t think much of it as my curious nature got the best of me, and I picked it up. It rattled in my hands, and for the second time, I read. Chill pills, Silvestia Baxs.

What the hell were these? I set them back in his bag and carefully zipped it back up. I had Dannie’s voice in the back of my head telling me that I should be more respectful of Dalton and more trusting.

The thought of her made my gut retch. She died because of me. If I had just trusted Dalton, she would still be here. But still, there was a part of me that screamed this isn’t okay. I needed to go home and tell Dannie’s friends and family. I needed to retrieve the body and give her the funeral that she deserved.

I felt empty as I showered and got ready for bed. The hotel room was unbearably quiet as I crawled into one of the beds wearing Dalton boxer and tee.

I sat there, fiddling with my fingers and feeling awkward. It felt like forever when the door finally opened, and Hutson walked in. His once sweet puppy dog features glared at me like a bulldog who was about to protect his territory. He said nothing as he closed the door behind him, turned the lights off, and flopped himself into the other bed.

I felt that angry elephant grow, pushing me farther into my bed and covering myself in the covers for what comfort I could achieve. Tears silently streamed down my face. I didn’t bother to wipe them away as I turned onto my side and closed my eyes.

My tears burned my eyelids, but I welcomed the pain and slowly drifted asleep.

…

I was awoken by cold hands creeping along the sides of my stomach. Then they pulled me up against an equally cold, rock-hard body. I turned into the coldness, offering my warmth.

I could smell Dalton’s cologne as he formed his body to mine. His body felt unsure as it was on a delicate secret mission to touch mine.

I moved, turning my body entirely to his, and he froze as if he were waiting for me to push him away. Instead, I nuzzled my head on his chest, finding a comfortable spot.

I felt his arms confidently tighten around me, and the rest of him relaxed. I willed myself to sleep, but the horrid nightmare feelings ran rapidly in my mind.

“Dalton?” I asked in a meek, silent whisper.

“Hmmm?” He asked, sounding as if my pain haunted him. All day, he seemed like a brick wall where no emotions were allowed. I don’t know how to explain it, but I wanted it to be true that he felt tormented that I was sad.

I wanted him to be somehow how Hutson seemed to be with Dannie rather than some formidable force.

“What’s going to happen now?” My voice didn’t sound recognizable. It sounded like a broken doll.

He let out a long, exaggerated sigh as he thought about what to say. After a while of his not responding, I asked another question to fill in my desired answers.

“Why aren’t we going back to the beach?”

“It doesn’t exist,” he stated in a melancholy tone.

A shiver ran down my spine as I thought about a whole beachfront town being made up from my imagination and I was some crazy person being dragged around the U.S.

I wanted to ask more questions but was tired and devastated, heartbroken. Tonight, I decided to comfort over answers.

Tears leaked from my eyes. He kissed my forehead and rubbed my back, and I fell asleep in his arms like he was a man I trusted.

Thanks for reading the twenty-first chapter of The Ocean’s City. Let me know what you think! Grammar Nazis are welcome!