I pull over at a motel conveniently located right off the highway, cash only, according to the neon sign outside. I park in the parking lot and check on her again.
“Why are we stopping?” She finally says something.
“We need to lay low for a while, and I’m not gonna pretend that wound is not there.”
“I’m fine. Let’s keep going.”
“No, you are not fine. Let me take a look at you.” I reach for her arm.
“Ouch!” She moves her arm away from my hand.
“I know it hurts, but we need to make sure it hasn’t worsened.” I fucking hate this. She’s hurt because I’m an idiot.
Focus, Bruno.
I really need to tend to that wound.
I move the car to the front of the motel, right by the registration office. From the outside, I can only see one receptionist bored to death and nobody else around. This is good.
“Hey, I’m in a hurry…” I say as soon as I walk in “…I need a room, please.” I start counting notes.
“Sure. Fifteen dollars an hour and eighty for the night.”
“I’ll take it.” I put the eighty on top of the counter, but she doesn’t move an inch.
“Huh… ID?”
“Sure.” I take a fifty-dollar bill and add it to the rest.
She raises her left eyebrow, thinks for a second, grabs the cash, counts it and says. “You’re fifty bucks short.”
You little shit.
“Am I now…” I take another fifty and put it on top of the counter, holding it down with my index finger. She tries to grab it but I’m still holding it. She looks up at me. “You can take this, but no phone calls of any kind under any circumstances, and you’ll fetch me dinner later as well. Deal?”
She looks back at the bill, then at me and says, “Deal.” She turns around and takes the room key.
“Thanks.” I grab the key and go towards the door.
“No shenanigans, okay?” I chuckle.
I get back on the car and drive around to the side of the motel. She gave me a room in the west part of the facility. When we arrive, I notice that this wing is under construction. Clever girl. I park the car in a corner spot next to a container filled with rubble. The rear end of the car faces the wall, just in case we have to get the hell out of dodge. I turn off the engine and pop the trunk. I walk towards it and grab the first aid kit.
“Let’s go inside, so I can take care of you.” We both walk to the room.
It’s an upper-level room and I carry Sarah through a rusty and noisy flight of stairs, making it impossible to move quietly. The balcony walkway that leads to the room has nothing out of the ordinary. I open the door and we enter the room. The smell of bleach is strong enough to make my eyeballs burn. I guess I’d rather have a room soaked in bleach than a plague of whatever it is that lurks around here. From the back windows, you can see a dark road with no street lights, probably used by the employees and/or any shameful customers. In any case, it’s a liability. We better keep the blinds closed.
I take her to the bathroom and make her sit on the toilet.
“Sit here and stay still,” I say while grabbing a pair of scissors from the first aid kit.
I cut the suit jacket sleeve and reveal the wound. I turn the shower on to mask the screams that are about to come out of her. I clean the wound with some gauze drenched in hydrogen peroxide to prevent an infection.
“Take a deep breath, I need to give you stitches.”
“Just do it.”
I give her the first stitch and she doesn’t even flinch. I’m amazed by her endurance to this type of things.
