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But there was no one.
Which led him to wondering what kind of shit security lost theironepriority? They had one job.
He got the door open and threw the deadbolt the second it closed behind him.
The bathroom door remained closed and he eyed it warily.
“I, um…” He tried to swallow but his mouth and throat were dry as a bag of cotton balls. He approached the door and knocked once. His hand shook and he squeezed it into a fist at his side.Please don’t be dead.“I have pants and water.” Even his voice was a wreck.
He set the bag on the floor by the door and took one of the waters for himself.
How was he shivering and sweating at the same time? Was he losing his mind? Was this what a psychotic break felt like? Was his internal wiring shorting out?
The room’s A/C control panel was on the opposite side against the wall. He hurried over to it. He just needed to get the temperature to a respectable level. Not this sweltering, swampy, jungle biome.
Jamming the button as many times as he could until the numbers stopped moving, he stood over the vent, letting the cold air wash over his face and chest. He ripped his suit jacket off, followed shortly by his dress shirt, leaving on his thin white undershirt.
Sweat poured off his brow and dripped from the ends of his hair onto his shoulders.
He removed his belt and tossed it aside. Then he removed his shoes and socks and tried to dig his toes into the dense carpet.
He unscrewed the lid on the water and his hand shook as he raised it to his lips, splashing water up his nose and down his front.
The door to the bathroom opened a crack and his eyes darted that direction.
An arm slipped through the crack and pulled the bag inside with her.
She wasn’t dead.
She wasn’t unconscious.
Relief should have had his heartrate leveling out but it had done nothing.
He drained his water and tossed the empty bottle aside. Bending over he put his hands on his knees and tried to slow his breathing.
What. The. Fuck. Was. Happening?
Was he having a fucking stroke?
His focus grew dark as air rasped in his lungs.
He was either going to cry or pass out.
He hoped it was pass out. He needed a break from his bullshit brain and going unconscious seemed like a very good idea right about then.
“Are you okay?”
He jolted upright, lost his balance, fell backwards onto his ass, and hit his head against the wall between the A/C unit and the bed.
Pain radiated from the back of his skull and he blinked. Confused.
“Oh no.” A blurry figure crouched beside him on the floor.
He squinted but the blurry person wouldn’t come into focus.
Oh, he was definitely concussed.
“Here,” came a soft, feminine voice that he would realize later was laced with barely restrained laughter.
