It’s one of those nights. Police sirens and neon lights mix with bar patrons and angry shouts. It’s one of those places. An old motel, the only one in town, sprawls in the middle of the chaos. Hidden in one of its rooms, Jenn lays reading, while Skye, who immediately took the bed nearest the door, stares through the window. She’s too tense, too wary to be tired, but she lies back anyway, and tells Jenn to turn out the light and go to sleep. Jenn looks at her, confusion plain, but complies. They settle down, but the silence in the room grows until she feels, more than hears, Skye slowly sit up and reach for whatever weapon is close. She doesn’t go to sleep, and when they both tense at the sounds of breaking glass down the street, she realizes why Skye chose that bed. It had nothing to do with old habits or preference, and everything to do with the idea that anything that came through that door would have to go through her first.
 Star of Winter · Wed Jun 03, 2009 @ 07:52am · 0 Comments |
