Chapter Thirteen

Marcus

I dont know how I got into the motel. But here I am checking in; it’s the kind of motel that one can pay by the hour, and I pay for three nights, not because I have plans after but because I don’t know how long the money I have will last or how long I will be able to hold on. It’s becoming more and more difficult to breathe, and I am almost engulfed by the darkness. At this moment, I am so grateful that Simon had paid me weekly for the cleaning and that he had been more generous than a typical employer because I would have ended up sleeping under the bridge, although, to be honest, the motel was only marginally better.

I take the bulky key from the bored receptionist, head up the four flights of stairs, and fumble with the key at the door before entering the tiny room. The bed is a twin bed, and it looks slightly comfortable; the covers are threadbare. There is a small desk and chair beside the bed and a door leading to a small bathroom and sho