by Amy Cross
Okay, maybe I'm being slightly vain, but is that really the biggest sin in the world? And it's not as if I'm hung up on my scar. I swear, I'm almost getting used to the damn thing.
Once I've made sure that the hairband is in place, I finish tying the front of my hotel-issued gown. I'm about to go back through into the room when I spot my two red pills resting on the side, waiting for me. There's the round red pill that's designed to help me sleep, and there's the oblong red pill that helps me stay calm. I hesitate, briefly considering the option of keeping my head and body clear by skipping the pills, but then I realize that I have no choice. I need my medication, so I take the pills and chase them down with a glass of water.
“I'm so tired,” I say to Jason as I head into the main room and make my way to the bed. “I don't think I'll have any -”
“What did you do that for?” he asks, suddenly sitting up and looking worried.
“Do what?”
“Your hair.” He stares at me for a moment, as if I've done something utterly astonishing.
“I just thought I'd try it out for tomorrow,” I reply, surprised by his reaction. “Why? Don't you like it?”
“You look beautiful, as ever,” he says cautiously, “but... I don't know, I just think I like it more when it's down.”
“Does it matter for one day?” I ask. “We're only going to be out sight-seeing. It's not like it's really important.”
“Sure,” he replies, but I can tell that he's still not convinced. For some reason, he seems really hung up on this hair thing. “It's totally your choice, Katie. I just...”
His voice trails off.
“You know what?” I reply, before reaching back and pulling the band away, letting my hair fall back down to my shoulders. “It doesn't really matter either way. Is that better?”
“Much,” he says, smiling a smile of palpable relief. “I just think you'll feel more comfortable like that, Katie. You know, in the hot weather. Tomorrow's supposed to be really hot.”
“Really?” I slip out of the gown and climb into bed. “I thought I saw a forecast for rain.”
“I won't let it rain,” he replies as I settle down. “I refuse to let the weather be anything other than perfect. There's going to be gorgeous sunshine, and we'll have the most brilliant day ever.”
“I'm sure we will,” I reply, kissing him on the cheek before setting my head on the pillow. Suddenly I feel really tired, as if I can barely keep my eyes open. “Do you mind turning off the light, honey?” I ask, letting my lids slip shut. “I don't know what's come over me, I think it's just all the traveling, I think...”
My voice trails off, and I can feel myself falling asleep already. I hear a clicking sound and the room falls dark, and then I feel the bed shift beneath me as Jason rolls onto his side. I'm already half asleep, and I don't fight as I feel myself sinking deeper and deeper into rest. After the long flight today, I need this so bad. Maybe I'm suffering from a little jet-lag, too. I just want to sleep and sleep and sleep and wake up in the morning feeling rested and ready to go.
I just want to enjoy this vacation.
Seven
Blood sprays everywhere, splattering against my face and into my mouth as I laugh.
Eight
Suddenly I open my eyes and see a crack of morning light running across the ceiling. I stay completely still for a moment, listening to the beautiful silence, and then I start to sit up. Immediately, however, I feel an instant sense of panic in my chest. My heart is racing and I'm filled with the sense that something's wrong.
I try again to sit up, but this time I feel a sharp pain in my left side, at the bottom of my ribs.
Letting the sheet fall down, I see that there's a bruise on my side, along with a small scratch.
“What the...”
I touch the bruise and feel an instant tremor of pain, and a moment later I hear Jason rolling over next to me.
“Are you okay?” he asks.
“Yeah,” I reply, as I touch the bruise again, “it's just... Look at this.”
“You must have bumped yourself.”
“In my sleep?”
“I guess.” He pauses. “Did you get up to use the bathroom in the night?”
“No,” I reply. “I mean, I don't think so.”
“Then maybe you hit it on the edge of the bedside table.”
“Seriously? This looks like I got punched!”
“I'm pretty sure you didn't get punched,” he replies. “Does it hurt?”
“Kinda.”
“Much?”
I pause. “No,” I admit finally, “but more than it should. There shouldn't be anything there at all!”
“It'll heal in a day or two,” he replies, as he climbs out of bed and walks over to the window. Still naked, he grabs the edges of the drapes and pulls them open, allowing the rest of the morning light to flood into the room. Momentarily blinded, I have to hold a hand up to protect my eyes.
“Look at this place,” Jason exclaims, putting his hands on his hips. “We have a whole new city to explore, Katie. What do you say we get some breakfast and then head out? There's no point sitting around in our room when there's so much to do.” He turns to me, still with his hands on his hips. “Do you want to shower first?”
“Sure,” I reply, as I start to get out of bed. As I do so, however, I feel a surprising soreness in my legs. It's almost as if I just went through leg day at the gym, except I haven't been to the gym all week. “I feel pretty stiff,” I continue. “Like I've done a full workout.”
“Well,” he replies, “we did get a little energetic last night.”
I can't help but roll my eyes.
“What?” he says with a grin. “You went on top for a while, remember?”
“I think it'd take more than that,” I say as I get to my feet and grab the gown, before limping slightly on my way to the bathroom. “I won't be long.”
“And don't forget to take your pills,” he calls after me.
I stop in the doorway, but I don't turn to him. I don't mean to seem ungrateful, but I really wish he'd stop reminding me over and over about those pills. The more he mentions them, the more I want to skip them, just to be contrary.
“They're very important,” he adds. “You really mustn't get out of the habit.”
“I won't,” I reply, bristling again at the sense that I'm being coddled. Still, Jason's only trying to help out, and it'd be wrong of me to say anything. “Give me five minutes,” I add, turning to him and smiling. “I'll be right out.”
Once I'm in the bathroom, I lock the door and head to the sink. Jason has already been through to set out my two red pills for the day, which is very conscientious of him. It's odd, but I hadn't realized that he'd been up already this morning. I guess maybe he put the pills out in the middle of the night.
I start the shower running, and then I head to the mirror and take a closer look at the wound on my side. The bruise is really discolored, with a dark brown center surrounded by reddish and purplish patches and a ring of yellow, while the scratches look quite deep. The skin around the edges is slightly inflamed, and I really don't understand how I could have suffered an injury like this while I was asleep.
Then again, it's not like anything else could have happened, so I guess this must just have been some freak injury.
“Damn it,” I mutter as I touch the bruise again, “that really hurts.”
I guess I should stop poking it.
Nine
“Wow, this place is busy,” I say a while later, as Jason and I try to squeeze our way along a packed street. “I can barely move. It's like we're walking in a perpetual queue.”
“And this is outside of the usual tourist season,” he replies. “Imagine what it must be like when it's really busy.”
“Can we take a side street?” I ask.
“We'll be fine, it's not much further to the cathedral.”
“Sure,” I reply, before grabbing his hand and leading him into a narrow, cobbl
ed street that leads off the main area, “but at least down here we can breathe.” I take a deep breath, as if to prove my point. “I swear, I was going crazy out there. Sometimes, when there are so many people all around, I just feel like I'm getting a little light-headed.”
“You might have a point,” he says, although he seems a little uncertain as he takes his phone from his pocket and brings up a map. “Come on, it won't make much difference if we go this way. And I guess we're getting to see a quieter, more authentic part of town.”
He's not wrong about that. In fact, as we make our way along the gloomy street, I can't help looking up and seeing scores of lines running between the buildings on either side. The lines are covered in clothes that have been hung out to dry, and a moment later I spot a woman glaring at us from one of the high windows. I smile, but she quickly pulls back inside and closes her shutters.
Somewhere nearby, a dog is barking.
“Well, it's quaint,” I say, hoping to keep our spirits up as we cross an intersection. “I'll give it that. It smells a little...”
“Authentic?” Jason suggests.
“Exactly. It smells authentic. That's the polite word.” We take a left and head along another street. “Maybe a little too authentic. Honey, are you sure we're going in the right direction? I feel like we're heading more away from the cathedral.”
“No, this is definitely the way,” he says, before stopping suddenly and peering more closely at his phone's screen. “Of course, I don't really have good signal down here, probably because the walls are so high.” He holds his phone up and waits to see if his signal will improve. “It's like a maze in these streets. Maybe you were right, maybe we should've just stuck with the main drag after all.”
“I'm sure we can find our way,” I tell him.
“Wait right here,” he adds, turning and heading back the way we just came.
“Where are you going?”
“I had signal back around that corner,” he explains. “I just need to check a map.”
“I'll come with you.”
“No, wait there.” He glances back at me. “I'll be thirty seconds, I promise.”
I open my mouth to ask why I can't just go with him, but he quickly disappears around the corner and I realize that there's no point arguing with him. Jason always likes to take charge of situations, and sometimes he can get a little hurt if I don't let him. I could do without being left standing here like a total idiot, but I'm sure he'll be back just as soon as he's managed to check a map.
Sighing, I turn and take a few more steps along the street, while looking up at the clothes lines that are fluttering high above me. This place definitely has its own charm, and I guess it's good to get away from the tourist areas a little. It's so easy to end up shuffling from one iconic location to another, without really seeing anything of the real life in a place like this. For a moment, I feel utterly at peace, and I realize after a few seconds that there's a faint smile on my face.
Suddenly a voice says something in Italian.
Startled, I look around, but it takes a moment before I see the girl sitting cross-legged in a nearby doorway. She's wearing a black coat and a pale blue hoodie, and she must be in her early twenties. She's staring at me with dark, frantic eyes.
“English?” she continues, as she holds out her right hand and shows me the palm. “Money.”
“I'm sorry,” I reply, a little taken aback, “I don't have any.”
“Money.”
“I'm sorry, I -”
“Money.”
“I really don't have any,” I say, forcing a smile. “I'm sorry. Have a nice day.”
With that, I turn to go back and find Jason. After just a single step, however, I hear a rustling sound over my shoulder and I realize that the girl must have stood up. I hesitate, worried that she might get funny with me, but then I tell myself that I just need to keep walking and -
Suddenly I'm shoved from behind and sent slamming against the wall, and then I feel the girl press her arm against the back of my neck.
“Money,” she sneers into my ear, before turning me around and holding up a screwdriver. “Money.”
“I don't have any money to give you,” I stammer, as I realize that I'm being mugged. “I swear!”
“Money.” She leans closer. “Any money. Euros. Pounds. Dollar. Anything.”
“I don't have any. I only -”
Before I can finish, she shoves the screwdriver's tip down against my belly and pushes hard. I instinctively let out a gasp as I feel a flash of pain.
“Don't hurt me!” I stammer.
“Money,” she snarls again, as she starts twisting the screwdriver and pushing harder. She must be close to driving it straight into my stomach.
“I don't have any!” I tell her. “You can have anything you want, anything I've got, but I don't have any money! Take my purse! Take all of it, but you'll see for yourself! I don't have any money to give you!”
She stares at me with an expression of pure anger, as if she doesn't believe me.
“You give me money,” she says finally. “Now.”
“Please,” I reply, desperately trying to work out how I'm going to get out of this situation, “I -”
“Money!”
She rams the screwdriver harder against my belly, and at the same time she twists the handle. The pain is instant and strong, and I grit my teeth as I put my hands on the woman's chest and try to push her away.
“What don't you understand?” she hisses. “I need money! Now!”
“I don't have any money,” I tell her yet again, and now my voice is trembling with fear. “Please, if you don't believe me, check for yourself. Take my bag! I don't -”
She digs the screwdriver deeper, and I let out an involuntary cry.
“Hey!” Jason shouts suddenly in the distance. “What are you doing?”
Turning, I see to my relief that he's rushing this way. I look back at the girl and see pure fury in her eyes.
Suddenly she spits in my face. I turn away, and in that moment she pulls back and runs. I immediately slide down to the ground and start wiping the thick, slimy mucus from my eyes and nose, while Jason reaches me and crouches down.
“Are you okay?” he asks frantically. “Katie, talk to me!”
“I think so,” I stammer, as I sniff back tears and lift the bottom of my shirt to reveal a reddened but somehow not broken patch of skin where the screwdriver pressed against me. The tip didn't pierce my skin after all. “She wanted money.”
“I should never have left you here!” he says firmly, pulling me close and giving me a big hug. “This was all my fault.”
“It wasn't your fault,” I whimper, but I start to sob as I press my face against his shoulder. I try to tell him again that he mustn't blame himself, but I can't get the words out and soon I'm a blubbering mess. I guess it's just the shock of being attacked in broad daylight.
“I'll never leave you alone like that again,” Jason says firmly, holding me tight. “I promise.”
Ten
“Really, I'm fine,” I say as we sit in a cafe near one of the main tourist squares. “It was just a fright, that's all. There's no harm done.”
“If I ever see that girl again,” he replies angrily, “I'll -”
“It's over,” I add, cutting him off. I reach out and hold his hand. “You won't see her again. I mean, come on, how many people live in Turin? Besides, no-one was hurt, not in the end. I didn't even get so much as a scratch.”
“I bet she lives down that street,” he mutters. “I should go back there later and find her, and -”
“No!”
He sighs and leans back in his seat.
“Maybe I should file a police report, though,” I tell him. “They might be able to do something.”
“They won't give a damn,” he says.
“But if -”
“They won't care, Katie,” he says firmly. “They'll waste our time asking for a statement, and then they'll throw a
ll the paperwork in the bin. The police aren't the answer to kids like that. What that girl needs is a lesson she'll never forget. She needs some good old-fashioned discipline.”
“I'm fine,” I say, before noticing a couple sitting at another table. The woman – who happens to have an old-fashioned beehive hairstyle – is staring at me, although she quickly looks away. “Ignore the fact that I cried,” I continue, turning back to Jason. “That was just caused by shock.”
I wait for him to reply, but after a moment I realize that Beehive Lady is looking at me again. I try to ignore her, even though I'm sure I've seen her somewhere before. I guess she and her husband – who has an impossibly chiseled jaw – might also be staying at Hotel Necro, although after a moment I see from the corner of my eye that the woman is tapping at her phone. After a moment, she turns the phone to show her husband whatever's on the screen.
“I'd never forgive myself if something happened to you,” Jason says sternly.
“That's very sweet and heroic,” I tell him, hoping that I can calm him down. “You're my knight in shining armor.” Realizing that I might have accidentally sounded sarcastic, I give his hand another squeeze. “Stuff happens,” I remind him. “Come on, let's not let this ruin our trip.”
“I just want to find the little bitch and throttle her.”
“Now that really would ruin our day,” I point out.
As I say those words, I see that Beehive Lady on the other table is still showing her phone to her husband. After a moment, Chisel Jaw turns and looks at me, but then they both pretend that they're looking at something else. A moment later they both turn away, although I have no doubt that – for some reason – I was the object of their attention. They weren't very good at hiding their interest.
“I know you're right,” Jason says after a few seconds. “I just hate that bad things happen to good people. The world shouldn't be like that.”
“Things aren't so bad,” I tell him. I glance at the other couple for a moment, but they seem to have finally stopped watching me. “There are a few bad apples, but most people are good. And some, like you...” I pause, and finally I smile at him. “Some, like you, are exceptional. And I'm fully aware that I'm the luckiest woman in the whole world.”