7 The Resort

The plane ride was fine. James hadn't known to go straight to the plane and so I'd walked there myself, letting him figure it out.

He hadn't said anything and neither had I. He sure grunted and sighed a lot though.

When we stepped out of the plane I noticed that he'd left my suitcases. I rolled my eyes at his pettiness and hauled one down the steps then I had to catch my breath. I leaned against the taxi clutching at my burning chest. A sign that I'd aggravated my scarred trachea and throat.

I groaned internally and slowly marched back up the steps to the plane. James meanwhile was sitting in the taxi, watching the meter run.

After somehow managing to get my suitcases into the back of the taxi, by dragging them, I deflated on the seat. I had begun wheezing, there was no way to stop it, water never helped, holding my breath only made it worse. But the sound grated on my ears.

I tried breathing through my nose but to no avail. I was still out of breath and I doubt I would catch it anytime soon.

"She alright back there?" The driver asked and James had the decency to actually look and see if I was alive.

"She's fine." He said turning back.

The driver dropped us off at The Four Seasons Resort. There were only three in Canada and one of them was in Whistler, British Columbia. A bellboy saved me from carrying my suitcases. After we'd told him the name of the room we'd be staying at, his eyes widened and he bowed.

'Strange.' I thought.

After checking ourselves in we got into the elevator. Arriving on our floor James swiped the card against the scanner and opened the door. My lips nearly parted at the room, no the suite.

First was the entryway, the tiled floor was covered with a brown rug and the sparse, dark green walls were bordered with varnished wood. There was a hallway to the right but I didn't check what it led to. Walking a few more steps I saw a small bathroom.

I half expected to see the classic small living room slash dining room slash bedroom when I walked through the doorway. Nope. I was met by the sight of a cozy but fancy living room.

The tiles turned into soft carpet, it's pattern simplistic. A large couch sat with its back towards me, between it and two armchairs sat a wooden coffee table. On the wall at the far left of the room was a TV and to the far right of the room was a fire place. Two large windows with curtains open were placed across the room and they provided a bright, natural light.

"Which room will you take?" James startled me with a question. I didn't show my surprise and ignored him. I would first finish my tour of the suite.

Walking behind the couch to the double doors next to the TV I found a large bedroom. No doubt the master bedroom. The room had a fireplace, a king size bed that was drowned in white covers. A large walk-in closet and a rather nice and spacious ensuite. Also included was a door that led out to a balcony.

I stepped back out into the living room and saw James glaring at me. I walked right passed him and continued on into was I assumed was the dining room. Turning right I found myself in a crossroads where to my left was a small kitchen and to my right was the entryway.

I walked straight on and found a bathroom and closet. At the end of that hallway I found a living room and bedroom combo, and a minibar.

My pulse began racing at the thought of being stuck in a room with alcohol. I left the area and walked back to the master bedroom.

I sat down on the bed and a very obviously annoyed James asked, "So is that the one you're picking?"

'Of course.' I answered.

He sighed and stomped off somewhere. He still scared me. He was too tall, but it wasn't just the fact that he was over two feet taller than me, it was also the fact that his chest was longer across than my arm. His hands could probably snap my neck in a second. He looked like he wanted to half the time.

I unpacked but had to stop because my breathing got too bad. Damn poison. I drank all of the water I thought was possible, and more, but it still burned and I couldn't stop wheezing.

James was being insufferable. It wasn't like I wanted to be in pain and making a wheezing sound. But I was nonetheless, and there was nothing I could do about it.

He ordered room service and they delivered two plates of mashed potatoes with green beans and salmon. I shrugged, it would do.

I ate in the dining room while he ate in the living room. I eyed the glass of golden liquid in his hands. My breath was shaky and not because of any injuries. No, it was mental trauma.

After I ate half of my meal I went to the kitchen and scraped the rest into the garbage. My steps were hesitant as I walked into living room. My heart was drumming against my ribs as I watched him take a swig. I swallowed when he looked at me. My face probably revealed my emotions but I was too scared to care.

"I won't kill you." He said, rolling his eyes.

'But who knows what you might do if you have a few more.' I replied in my head.

I walked backwards until I crossed under the ceiling of my room. I closed the double doors and tried to calm my breathing. Hyperventilating wouldn't help anything.

I changed into my pjs and crawled under the heavy, white comforter. I was freezing so that would be nice. I placed my sleeping pill next to me on the nightstand and opened my book.

Maybe I could get through a few sentences before my mind wandered. I couldn't. Every time my eyes landed on the script my mind would instantly snap back to that room, that orange light, the chair and that table.

I began shivering and when I glanced at my phone for the time I saw that it was half past ten. I put my book down and swallowed my sleeping pill.

I'd refused the sedatives at first but after nearly two months of insomnia I'd decided to accept some sleep. I usually woke up in the middle of the night anyway. But the few hours of sleep were better than none.

My eyes closed and I was soon in a dark room.