I'm lounging. I wish I could choke myself to near death. I feel horrible, and to make things worse, she hasn't come around yet. Purposefully, she is abandoning me. Who was I to desire such a woman anyways.
I blink my slight tears away beneath my shades. My depression cannot be cured without her presence. I wait a couple minutes before I decide it's time to return to my room.
On my way back, I see a woman who has fallen out from a window of the hotel. I instantly wish I was her, envying what heights certain humans can reach during suicidal ideation. No pun intended.
"Hello," a random man greets me as I walk to the hotel entrance. "Sad stuff ." I disregard everything he says to stare at his perfect face. I've never seen someone so put together.
"Yes, it's very disparaging." I feign my emotion for this atrocity.
He knows I don't care. I can tell by the look he gives me in return. Regardless, the hardest decision I have to make all day is saying goodbye to him.
I take the elevator to my floor only to come back and find she has left me something. A complete mess. It looks as though two people were fucking in my bed, only that the blanket is twisted in what looks like… oh my god. She literally strangled her with my bedsheet and threw her out my window. On the windowsill is a bag of another single pill of what looks to be a Xanax bar.
She was as lovesick as you are.
The note she left reads these words blatantly to my soul.
Does she care?
Am I next?
My face softens. I take the pill she left and dry mouth it. I stare at the woman's body being lifted up onto the stretcher from my view. I don't count how many minutes I spend standing here, observing the scene from the very window she was hurled out of. I wonder if the woman lured her into there for sex and killed her mercifully or cruelly. I wish not to end up like her. I also have a feeling the less I know, the better.
—
I fall asleep watching the game. Bob called twice, once while I was awake. He most likely wanted something; it's not like I was a figure in his life for anything substantial.
It's time to call him back. It's 3A.M. and he is most likely not to answer.
"Celeste," he answers.
Shit.
"Yes?" I drawl.
"I never meant to hurt you through Danielle," he goes on. Like I care.
"I thought that woman was you,"
I set my jaw. He's been watching me. He sent her. The airplane lady-
Oh my god. I am such a loser.
"There were no reporters." I say, my voice sounding feeble instead of defensive.
"I wish you well, Celeste."
I feel my own heart sink. So it's over after all. He'll leave me half and I'll-
I just want to end my life. Bob is invincible. I'm not. I'm the biggest poser. A trainwreck. I wasted his time.
I scream into my pillow.
Bob has ruined me in more ways than I can imagine. It. Was. All. Bob. My silent weeps disgust me.
—
I don't care about her anymore. She could have played his fucking game and took her own happiness to serenade her pitiful self all the way back home. But no, she called him back let him eat her soul alive. Futile fool. I'm done with her. She can suck the captain's cock knowing he has a wife and get caught up in her pathetic sociopathic ways again. The horny bastardization of womankind always succeeds over inner morality. She has burned every last bridge.
—
I steadily try everything all over again. Loving myself despite Bob's will to me, my life and integrity. His nonchalant sadism conveys a mental image of him laughing in my face. He makes the greatest mockery of my exterior – a perfectly put together blonde. He is a god and I didn't recognize that earlier. Bob.