The Search for Fireworks (ONGOING)

12 ~ The Door

A loud ringing tugged at Reilly's consciousness. She fought hard to stay in the dream. The ringing continued, then broke through the delicate haze of her beautiful dream. She sighed heavily, the last of her dream drifted out of her desperate grasp before she opened her eyes.

"Hi," she answered sleepily.

"Good morning, Miss Burke," Reilly's face screwed up as she recognized the voice on the other line.

"Good morning?" Reilly responded and braced herself for the inevitable.

"I just wanted to let you know that there is a room available down the hall," he responded.

"Uhm, that's great!"

"What's great?" Blake murmured from behind her. She jumped.

"They have another room available for us," she answered, forcing cheer into her voice as her body grew cold. She thanked the manager and ended the call. Her eyes followed Blake as he got out of bed and made his way to the kitchen. She couldn't read him.

"Do you want some coffee?" he asked. There was nothing in his voice that gave away the intense relief he felt. He was glad about that, as Reilly wouldn't understand. He silenced the little voice in the back of his head that scornfully suggested that he never even gave her a chance and took out cups from the cupboard.

"No, thank you," Reilly said quietly. She stuffed the few belongings she had into her bag slowly. Some part of her wanted him to stop her. She glanced up at him and silently prayed that he would.

He didn't.

If only she knew that some part of him wanted to. But, the guilty niggling voice that plagued him throughout his dreams had won. He has to let her go.

So, without a word, she left.

There were no tears left inside her. Just solid resolve.

She marched herself downstairs, retrieved her new key and locked herself inside her new room. She told herself that she won't let him get to her. She lied. With the second heavy sigh for the morning, she dragged herself to the bed, took out her laptop and wrote.

The sunlight disappeared behind the windowsill and Reilly shuddered as the heat seemed to flutter out with it. She moved her tense shoulders tentatively and for the first time that day, she thought about food. She looked towards the empty kitchen and mentally counted the money she had left in her pocket.

She put her hand in her pocket.

It was empty. She panicked for a second before she realised that the money is in her black jeans.

She threw all the clothes out of her bag and looked for her black jeans frantically. They were not here.

She breathed in deliberately.

It had to be in Room 13.

His room.

Lucky number 13.

She squared her shoulders and walked to his room. For a split second, she thought about going home instead. Her brain rationalizing that it might have been easier to face her parents.

Reilly wiped her hands on her pants. Her nerves fried. She stopped in front of the door.

"You can do this!"

"Do what?" Blake said from behind her. She spun around, her cheeks on fire.

"So, you googled me?" He sneered and continued without giving Reilly a chance to respond, "You know who I am, now you want to worm your way back into my life."

Reilly blinked at him in shock.

"Damnit, Reilly! Can you just stop with the whole injured innocent routine?" Blake sneered. Reilly opened her mouth to defend herself, but no sound came out.

The hallway started to go dark around her and the floor seemed to rise towards her.

The last thing she heard before the ground swallowed her was an explosive:

"Fuck!".