Free Vicious by Olivia Rivard

the sidewalk. I began to make my way through the grid of streets and toward his neighborhood. He normally was not up at this hour, but he’d be expecting me. Brother Sinister always knew when I was coming for a visit.

Chapter Ten
    Grant
    My awareness jumped around from dream to reality where I played out each moment of last night over and over again. My consciousness slowly drifted into the room I was in, and I began to have an acute understanding of exactly how heavy my body felt sprawled across the bed. I lethargically moved away from last night’s memories and began to focus on what seemed like reality.
    Slowly but surely, I became aware of my body and my breathing. The sheets both below and above me were cool and comforting against my warm skin. The pillow below my head was nice and supportive while the weight of the blanket on top of me was heavy with its protective cocoon. I was lying on my stomach and felt the pillow get warmer and cooler with the cadence of my breath.
    I twitched my fingers and toes and felt relief when my limbs moved and seemed rested and alive once again. The more I became aware of myself, the more last night seemed like a very realistic dream and nothing more. I was certain I would soon hear Eric’s wall-trembling snore any moment, or be rudely awakened by some overzealous hotel maid trying to rattle open the door despite the Do Not Disturb sign. I shouldn’t drink Hand Grenades anymore. They gave me nightmares.
    It was when I opened my eyes that I got slapped in the face with the harsh truth of the morning. This was not my room. There was no Eric. I had no idea where I was. I flipped over and sat up suddenly, feeling the pulling, stitch-like pain in my throat in the process. I reached for my neck and found a fresh bandage there. It had not been a dream. Where was Anna?
    I looked around the dimly lit room for her, but the only thing I could find of hers was the long, thin black scarf that was draped over a nearby armchair. The armchair, like the room, looked like how you would expect an old New Orleans room to look. The décor and the furniture was old French antique, and there were floor-to-ceiling windows with grandiose curtains covering them fit for Scarlet O’Hara to make a dress from. The carpet was a deep-maroon color and every mirror was framed with something gold and cherub encrusted. This was nothing like the cookie-cutter nameless hotel I had checked into less than twenty-four hours ago.
    Suddenly, the sound of someone sticking a key in the door and turning the lock startled me, and I scrambled to stand up to flee or defend myself, whichever made more sense at the time. I quickly sat back down and covered myself with the blankets when I realized I was naked except for my undershirt and boxers. The door opened, and there stood the creature from my dreams. It was Anna, exactly as I had remembered her from last night. She was mysterious and frighteningly beautiful. Even the brilliance of the morning couldn’t seem to find a flaw on that face of hers. She looked up from the plates she was holding and flashed me a smile that shocked me in its simplicity.
    “I see that you are awake. They close the breakfast at ten, so I got a few things to bring up to you. I hope you like croissants and beignets. I’m told they have great beignets here, but these are a little cold. Oh, I got you some orange juice too. That will help you recover.”
    I looked at her confused as she set everything out in front of me on the bed. She didn’t seem to notice my expression as she placed the glass of orange juice on the night stand nearest to me. Without hesitation, she reached for the bandage on my neck with the familiarity of an old friend.
    “Let’s see how you are doing here.”
    I flinched instinctively, and she stopped her hands. I saw her react to the sudden realization I was uncomfortable with her presence. Anna sat on the bed next me as I eyed her. Had last night really happened?
    “What’s