Spencer Hotel

Chapter Fifteen

The sky was pitch black, with only the moonlight shining in the desolate background. Barrel fires lined the street, the raging flames reflecting against the ground creating an ever changing pattern. Samuel stood outside the brothel, waiting for a sight of Brooklyn. Drunk patrons stumbled out, almost tumbling to the ground. Samuel's breath formed misty clouds in the cold night air. He pulled his coat tighter, trying to ward off the biting cold. Minutes felt like hours as Samuel's patience waned.

Samuel's heart skipped a beat as finally a familiar silhouette emerged from the haze of smoke and drunken revelry. It was her, stepping out from the brothel. Tugging at her oversized fur coat for warmth, Brooklyn continued down the street hidden by the darkness of the night.

Samuel, propelled by a surge of adrenaline, trailed her discreetly, his breathless voice cutting through the night's hush like a blade, "Brooklyn!" She pivoted, her gaze languidly assessing his fragile demeanor.

With a graceful turn and measured steps, she murmured, "Follow me." Samuel noticed she now wore a septum piercing. His nerves aflame, obeyed her summons, trailing her back into the brothel's dimly lit interior. The establishment lay dormant, its doors sealed for the night, and the sole occupant, a drunken elder sprawled unconscious upon a table.

"Sit." Brooklyn exclaimed pouring two beers into pint glasses. Samuel eased himself into a rickety wooden chair, its surface sticky with the remnants of spilled liquor. Brooklyn settled across from him, presenting him with one of the pints. Samuel accepted it with an awkward grip, trying to maintain eye contact with Brooklyn.

"I saw you come in. Are those your friends?" Brooklyn inquired, her eyes thoughtful.

"I only met them a couple of days ago. They're good people," Samuel replied, sipping his beer. He couldn't help but notice the transformation in Brooklyn's demeanour and appearance, now wearing a pointed septum piercing.

"Is this who you are now?" he asked, probing her change.

"Only on weekends," Brooklyn retorted, raising her pint glass to her lips for a long, contemplative sip.

Samuel shook his head, his expression tainted with disappointment. "That's disappointing. This isn't who you are."

"People change, I was bored" Brooklyn replied nonchalantly, taking another gulp of her beer. She placed the glass down gingerly, her guilt-laden gaze locking onto Samuel's eyes. "I'm sorry," she muttered, her voice carrying a hint of remorse.

"There's a lot you should be sorry for," Samuel responded, his eyes briefly breaking contact with Brooklyn as he took another sip of beer.

"I'm sorry that I left unannounced. I just didn't know how to tell you in person," Brooklyn softly explained.

Samuel turned away, his gaze fixed on the timeworn wooden walls of the brothel. His heart grew heavy, and he realized he could never fully forgive her. "I'm sorry that I raped you. I didn't know you felt that way," Brooklyn added, her voice filled with embarrassment.

"How could you not have known?" Samuel asked, his tone tinged with anger.

"I don't know," Brooklyn replied, her discomfort evident. She pulled out a cigarette and placed it between her lips.

"I don't think I ever truly loved you. I wanted to escape from our relationship. I felt trapped, I never felt like myself. Maybe it was for the best that you left," Samuel confessed, anger evident in his words as he downed the rest of his beer, forcefully setting the empty glass back on the table.

"What do you want me to do? How can I make it up to you?" Brooklyn asked, her voice filled with unease.

Samuel nodded, his face etched with a deep frown. As he stood up from the table, he delivered one final word before departing. "You had two years to apologize. You think I'm going to forgive you now? We aren't together anymore. I have to learn to live with what you did to me." With that, he slammed the door shut behind him and walked down the street, passing by the inebriated souls attempting to sleep on the sidewalk. He placed his cold hands into his pockets.