I can't listen to this any longer.
Even though he didn't want to, Casey couldn't shake the feeling to want to help this girl. She was clearly paranoid, and it was undetermined whether she was dangerous or not, but Casey couldn't watch her go back out there.
"That won't be necessary," he spoke up. "She's with me.
He looked at the attendant, waiting for her to acknowledge his statement. He could see that the girl was surprised at his declaration, but she made no efforts to refute him.
"She's with you?" the attendant asked. She was clearly aware that the two of them were strangers and was unsure if there was something she should do.
"Yes, she's with me," Casey asserted, trying not to look at the blonde girl who still looked up at him. He suddenly felt self-conscious under her stare. He wanted to know what she was thinking.
How could a stranger's judgements matter to him? He had never cared of what people thought before, but suddenly, now he did. Suddenly, he cared what she thought of him.
Why?!
He settled the matter, concluding that he wanted to prove to her he wasn't some criminal. She was so quick to pass that judgement, and he just couldn't understand why.
"Okay, umm, will you be getting a separate room for her or-" the attendant started.
"I don't think that concerns you," Casey said as he walked down the hall leading to the rooms.
He made no effort to walk at a slower pace as he looked for the room that matched the key Gordon had given him. He could hear the girl struggling to keep up, but he was still pissed at her for holding him up at gun point.
How did she even get a gun?! Those cost a fortune out here!
Making a mental note to ask her later, Casey continued forward. Eventually, he found his room and, using the key, opened the door. The room was a decent size. The bed was off to the side against one wall, and there was a large oak wardrobe leaning up against the opposite wall.
As he walked in, he threw his bag to the ground.
Not long after coming in, Casey noticed her standing in the door way, still quiet. He looked at her, taking in her appearance. She was still wet from the storm, like he was, and she had mud all over her shoes.
"The bed is mine, you can take the floor." he stated.
"And take your shoes off so you don't track mud everywhere," he added, pointing to her shoes.
She looked down at herself, as if she was taking in her current condition for the first time. She was clearly uncomfortable.
"I'm going to hop in the shower now so, make yourself at home, I guess." Casey walked over to his bag, picking it up to take with him into the bathroom. He didn't want to leave anything out there in case she wanted to take it and run. As he headed into the bathroom he heard her speak up.
"I'm sorry," she said.
He turned around, caught off guard by her sudden breaking of silence. Her big blue eyes were fixed on him.
"What was that?" he asked, lifting his hand to his ear in a dramatic fashion.
Letting out a sigh she repeated, "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have pulled my gun on you."
"Yeah, you shouldn't have."
Silence fell between them for a moment as Casey took in the apologetic look on her face.
"I'm Sydney," she said, hooking her hair behind her left ear.
Sydney. Finally, a name to that face.
"Casey," he said before shutting the bathroom door.
Now to himself, Casey wasted no time getting into the shower. The effects of his day's journey finally hit him as he felt soreness creeping in. The hot water did the best it could to ease some of the discomfort, but he knew what he really needed was a bed.
After cleaning up, Casey took out his change of clothes. Thankful they were still dry, he put them on, hanging his wet clothes up on the towel rack. Then, he left the bathroom, still drying his hair off with a towel.
"You can take a shower and change if you want. I'd recommend it. You look terrible," he said as he plopped down on the bed.
Sydney was sitting next to the wardrobe, leaned up against it. Her eyes were open, but it looked like she was fighting sleep.
"I don't have any other clothes," she said, avoiding eye contact.
"What do you mean you don't have 'any other clothes'?" Casey scoffed, confused. "Why would you travel without anything to wear?"
Judgement laced his words as he looked at her, his expression matching.
"Leaving wasn't my choice," Sydney said, sounding bitter. She cradled her face in her hands for a few seconds before continuing.
"This trip?! Coming here?! It wasn't some planned vacation! I didn't have any other options!" Her voice was shaky as she looked up at the ceiling. She was angry, Casey could tell, but there was more to it.
She closed her eyes, causing a tear to fall as she took in a deep breath. That was all the proof Casey needed to believe she was telling the truth. When she quickly wiped the tear away, Casey regretted the whole conversation. She was clearly reliving some terrible memories, and he couldn't help but feel he caused that.
What happened to her?
Feeling like he should drop it, Casey didn't question her anymore. Instead, he took off his black t-shirt, and tossed it to her, catching her off guard.
"You can borrow my shirt for the night, but I want it back in the morning," he said. "And hang your clothes up to dry so they're not wet tomorrow."
She just nodded as she used her one good leg to stand up, scrunching her face in pain.
I wonder how she hurt her leg.
Leaving her crutch behind, she hopped over to the bathroom and closed the door. Casey, sprawled out across the bed, was left alone with his thoughts. A few minutes later, he started to get a little cold, having given up his shirt to Sydney.
This is what happens when you give your shirt to the sad stranger in your shower.
Thinking back to earlier, when he first saw her sleeping on the street corner, Casey's mind raced with questions. Questions he knew he would probably never have answered. He leaned over, laying on his side, and looked at the spot Sydney was sitting at earlier.
There was residue of mud and rainwater left behind, along with her crutch, shoes, and bag. He was tempted to go through her things, but could hear his mother's voice scold him for even entertaining the idea.
Instead, Casey got up and pulled off the thickest blanket on the bed. He tossed it onto the floor, along with one of the pillows.
She should be able to get some rest with that.
Satisfied, Casey got under the bedsheets, facing away from the wardrobe, and went to sleep. He had no trouble doing so considering the day he had.
When he woke up, prematurely, it was from the sound of weeping. Taking in his surroundings, he knew it was either very late, or very early in the morning.
He turned to face the wardrobe, knowing already who the cries were coming from.
As he sat up, he could see her figure laying on the floor, wrapped up in the blanket he had given her. Her long blonde hair was in some kind of braid, but he couldn't see her face. She was crying into the pillow, probably trying to stay unheard, but every so often, a cry would escape that was louder than the others.
Seriously, what happened to her?!
Concern washed over him, and he started to get up, but immediately changed his mind. Whatever was going on with her was none of his business and should be none of his concern. This was the same person that threatened his life earlier. Just because she apologized and needed him didn't change what she did. He helped her out tonight, which was more than generous, but tomorrow he was leaving and would never see her again. She was a mystery he wasn't going to unlock.
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