It is only the second time that I enter the room that I had as a bedroom in this place. The first thing I do after closing the door behind me is to go to the bed and fall on it, looking at the white ceiling that covers me, from which an oriental-style spherical lamp hangs. I don't know why ... but I get the impression that at any moment it will fall on my head. The beige wallpapered walls and light oak parquet flooring give the place a warm look, not to mention the matching shades that cover the glass in the two windows that form a view of much of the back garden. The furniture is in walnut color and a chocolate tone fabric covers the two-seater bed that is located under the two windows, specifically in the middle of them, facing the door.
I let out a choked sigh and lift my back off the bed, leaning it on the back of the bed a little further back. I was always exaggerated in details like going to bed with my shoes on, sleeping without bathing and stuff, I don't tolerate them. Right now I'm still wearing my boots and honestly I don't care in the least. The fact that I had not slept well the night before, added to the 9-hour trip in which I could not even close an eye, the boring dinner in which only my parents were chatting, Samuel's statement plus my brother's stupid blackmail form a whirlwind of thoughts that, no matter how hard I try ... I can't clear up to try to solve them one by one in my mind and that makes my head about to explode.
As for Oliver, the truth is that I have no idea what I'm going to do. He thinks it's silly and that it won't cost me, but I know perfectly well that it won't. It's the same. Anyway, it will have to wait until we get home and that will take a couple of days, so I prefer to enjoy today and worry about when I need to act.
I find myself in one of those moments when you sit and look at an object or a person with a blank mind, so if they asked you what you think you would have to make up some silly excuse because you don't think about anything in particular at all, as if that relaxes you more than doing something else. That sensation is suddenly interrupted when I notice how something sparkles somewhere on the floor and when I look clearly, I see that it is the fine line that forms between the door and the floor. It seems as if the hall light is on and something or someone is moving on the other side, forming shadows every time your body covers that light. Then I see something white and pointy peeking out from under the door and from one second to the next that same thing enters the room. When I stop concentrating my eyes on that flat object,
I squint and jump off the bed, heading for the entrance of the room. I lean over to take what appears to be some kind of paper and open the door, poking my head out. No one. Only a country-style lamp hangs on the front wall of the door, illuminating that corner of the narrow hallway. I remember perfectly that that thing was not on when I arrived. I look both ways again and choose my shoulders, re-entering my bedroom.
I rest my sword on the closed door and open the folded paper that I never let go of. It is somewhat wrinkled and has only a few words written in a somewhat messy and irregular handwriting: "I'll wait for you in the garden that you see through your window."
I turn the page, hoping to read something else, even if it's a name or a nickname. Any. Bufo, outraged. What makes you think that I would leave the house at this hour without at least knowing who is waiting for me downstairs? Although I do not deny the idea that it is the dense one of my brother, wanting to make me some practical joke.
- Moron.
I say out loud even though I know no one can hear me and clench my fist, crumpling the piece of paper between my fingers. I look down at the ground and see another, identical to the one I just smashed between my feet. I turn around and yank the door open, hoping to catch him red-handed. And again: nobody. I remember the room I saw him come out of when I arrived a couple of hours ago and started walking down the hall, looking for him. I finally find it more easily than I thought and knock on the door impatiently. Any. I turn the doorknob and go inside, seeing him on his bed, lying on his stomach and concentrating on his cell phone.
May: Don't you ever think of growing up?
I ask, leaning my shoulder on the Oliver by the door. He turns around in surprise.
Oliver: What? What are you doing in my room?
May: What are you doing passing little letters by my door inviting me "to the garden that I see through my window"? (I say ironic, gesturing with my fingers).
Oliver: What are you talking about? I left my room and don't fuck around.
May (sigh): I see another piece of paper and I make you swallow it.
I add, slamming the door and leaving the room. I reach mine and sit on the bed, waiting to see the next page appear, knowing that my brother will continue with this joke until he loses his humor. The area in front of the door is still intact and I'm amazed that he got tired of his nonsense so quickly. I pick up the two papers that I left scattered on the bed with the intention of throwing them away. When I get to the bathroom and stop at the container, I get rid of the first one and open the other one, which is still intact just out of curiosity.
"PS: I'm not a serial killer or kidnapper, I work as a bodyguard for the girl with the most beautiful smile in the world."