-November 19, Portland ME-

I hold my eyes shut, thinking that if I squeeze them hard enough the damn headache will pass.  This only proceeds to make it worse. Ale is quiet, probably still asleep. We had a wonderful night last night: dinner, wine, and some really good cheese.  After was sublime too, but my head now is making me wonder if it was worth it. I slowly reach my hand over to his resting body under the covers to wake him. God, it's chilly. I think we forgot to turn the heater on last night.

My hand finds his under the covers. It's cold, ice cold, his fingers are ridged and when I squeeze them in attempt to wake him up they resist. A wave of blood rushes to my head and that throbbing pain subsides with the adrenaline. My groggy body loses all symptoms of sleep and my eyes snap open, focusing first on the bland ceiling.

I look over to my mark, between the fluffy pillows Ale too is looking at the emotionless roof. Only his eyes have crystallized on the surface and his skin gone a creepy pale. There's crusty blood on his jaw running down his neck to a large gash. The flaky red mess stains the comforter and sheets revealing it's been there for quite some time. Shit.

Again. It happened again. Disappointed I slept with a corpse for God knows how long, I throw the comforter off. I move my feet off the edge of the bed and look around our small dwelling. The curtains do a good job at keeping the blaring sun out, however the light to the bathroom is on defeating their purpose.  The clock next to the TV reads 10:17. Checkout is soon, I need to clear out to have time before room service finds Ale.

I glance at the heap in the corner.  My duffle is open and my clothes are spread across the windowsill. A wide array of colors from black to light blue and several pairs of skinny jeans balance on the small ledge. Well, at least I'm on the run again with clean clothes since the motel had a laundry mat.

I stand and look down at my loose fitting white tank top, below that I can see my legs. They look so clean and fresh now, but I guess the time for that is nearly up. Things normally begin to go south about this time. I use my fingers to squeeze my temple, the adrenaline has subsided and that headache has miraculously come back.

I sweep up the extent of my possessions and take a step to my half empty bag. Resting on top of the open duffle is a worn-out elementary rule notebook, the hard black-and-white mesh cover has several coffee stains on the rims and an old red dot near where the name would normally be. I reach my free hand down and pick up the pad, while lightly setting the clothing into the opening. I close the bag and throw it next to my hard-shell suitcase by the door.

I stumble towards the bathroom. As I cross the bed, I take one more look at the body in it. His large stomach is creating a dome under the covers and his feet reach right to the edge. His black hair is clumped together atop his head with a combination of sweat and blood. I should close the eyes; I should pay my respects, but I'm not touching him. Beside the bed in a heap are his jeans and shirt. On the desk next to him is his suit hung loosely on the corner, his tie spread out on top, and his briefcase recklessly thrown on top. I never did find out what was in that case.

I guess now is not the time to sort through his belongings, it's probably nothing. Instead, I cross to the restroom. The first thing I notice is that my brown hair is a horrid knotted mess.  I can't recall what happened after the wine and cheese, but we ended up back here, and my hair ended up like this. I probably enjoyed the moment.  I probably enjoyed it a bit too much. I avoid contact with my own black eyes, shamed of the blood smothered over my face and lips. It makes me feel nauseous even thinking about the monster that would have done this to him.  The monster that would have killed someone I really quite liked.

I turn the faucet on and use one of the pretty white towels to dab the blood off my face and lips. I realize now is not the time to take a shower, no matter how badly I want one.  Cleaning up will have to do. I quickly brush my hair till it is more or less flat down my back. I toss the soiled towel into the tub and retrieve all my toiletries, taking one last glance over the room before deciding it was clear of my possessions.

I reach the door and open my duffle to squeeze my shampoo, conditioner, and small bag of assorted cosmetics into it before closing it again. I then put on the pair of pants I had left by my side of the bed and the yellow t-shirt. I pull the jacket off the nightstand and throw it over my shoulders, sighing at the cold world beyond the door. I look at that clock, 10:32. I'm cutting it close.

I pick my notebook off the armrest and squeeze it under my arm as I lift my bag over my shoulder. I pick up my suitcase in the other arm and open the door. "Goodbye Ale," I whisper into the room as the cold blows in from outside. Maybe I'll go south. After barricading myself away in Alaska for several years I want nothing more to do with cold. I let out a slow exhale, watching my breath pool up in front of me. I look over the balcony to the almost empty parking lot below, then to the vacant bus stop across the way. Maybe I'll take a bus to New York first and go from there. Right now it's best to get as far away from the crime scene as possible.

I smile.  At least growing up isolated with my mother had its advantages. I technically don't exist, that blood in the bathroom will lead to an unidentified female with a distinctive file.  No hospital records, no name, and no driver's license. According to the world I was never born. Thinking of her makes me sad again. That life ended a long time ago and I can never go back to it. I walk down to the first floor and to the lobby. I set my stuff down outside and go in to checkout  Abby, the woman who was here when I checked in a week ago last Friday, is working again.

"I'm checking out Abby."

The short, freckled woman with poofy red hair smiles at me, "See you again sometime? It's always nice having you around town." Her round face expands with a warming smile.

I lower my hands down below the counter and give them a tight squeeze together, "I don't think so." I've lodged here several times over the past few years, Abby is a local girl and she even toured me around the city once. Sadly I had an accident.  It was bound to happen eventually, but because of it I doubt I'll ever see Abby again.

She looks down at the cash register with a disappointed breath and replies, "Total for the week is $669.90."

I force the weakness out of my system and look confidently into her blue eyes.  My eyes bore into hers until that twinkle behind them goes dull, "I'm pretty sure it's already been paid for," I say slowly without moving my stare.

She gets lost in my eyes before a glitter of recognition appears, "Oh, it has," she says finally breaking with me to hit a few keys and print a receipt.

I acknowledge her with a nod and say, "Sorry about the mess. Maybe you can tell the boys to do the room last in case it takes a bit longer to clean."

"Will do," she replies immediately then hands me the receipt. I head for the exit, "Where you headin?" She calls out.

"Away." I reply reaching the door, "Far away."

She says, "See you around sometime?" as I get to the door.

I sigh, letting out that confidence I had moments ago. I know she won't remember me much, if at all, "Yeah, see you around," I lie. The door clatters shut behind me as I pick up my stuff and walk down to that bus stop. God damn my head hurts.