Page 39 of 2204 Hunter Lane
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I tossed and turned in bed for a couple of hours before I gave up entirely and decided to stay awake.
Todd always used to complain about my insomnia saying I should go on sleeping pills or whatever, but I couldn’t be bothered. Contrary to popular belief, I actually liked being awake before dawn. There was something about the complete and utter silence of the world, the onyx sky that was no longer polluted by the exhaust fumes of motor vehicles, that calmed me.
I enjoyed the quiet. New York, the city that never sleeps, was where my insomnia began. When I was younger, I used to hate it. I’d get on average maybe three, four hours of sleep if I was lucky. But when I left for college, I actually relished in my sleepless nights and channelled those moments into work.
If it wasn’t for my insomnia, I honestly don’t know if I would’ve graduated. During the day I would spend most of my time with friends because to me, that was the point of the day –living. But when night hit and everything fell still, I’d transform into a workaholic and just grind my dues until the sun was up. Caffeine was my fuel, and it never let me down for years.Why stop now?
I flung my legs out of bed and sucked back my tongue, cursing the one symptom of insomnia I absolutely hated: dry mouth.
Usually I kept a water bottle on my bedside table at all times, but I’d forgotten it back home so I threw on a sweater and made my way to the kitchen.
Immediately I was swept up by darkness, walking down the creaking staircase that had no railing.This has to be some sort of hazard.
A gust of wind rattled the window pane as I crossed the area rug towards the fridge, soaking in the silence.
My eyes glanced to the oven clock that read: 2:16am.
“Penny for your thoughts, sweetheart?”
I jumped up and launched my entire body to the nearest wall, inhaling a sharp breath as I fumbled with the light switch.
When the dim brightness illuminated my surroundings, I found Hunter sitting on the arm chair with a glass of dark liquid in his hand, staring at me sharply.
“Or do those thoughts just lead back to me?” He poised, finishing off his drink in one swig.
His blonde hair was a disheveled mess atop his head, the points of his knuckles coated in a reddish brown substance.
“Hunter?” I tiptoed around the kitchen island, maintaining a fair distance between him and me. “What are you doing?”
He grumbled lowly. “Enjoyin’ myself, bymyself.”
Those diamond eyes were darker now, similar to sapphire gems that cut into my skin like glass. I crossed my arms over my middle, feeling more exposed in a sweater and joggers than if I was completely naked.
“Why are you looking at me like that?”
“You walked into my line of sight Bambi, I’ll look where I want to.”
With careful footing, I moved closer just to get a better view of his torn up knuckles.
“What happened to your hands?”
Immediately he shot up, placing the glass on top of the fireplace before making his way towards me.
“Let’s talk about you, Bambi.”
I stood glued in place as his chest made level to my eyes, forcing me to look up at his face.
“What’s your story lookin’ like? You seem to love pokin’ in other people’s lives so why don’t we take a dip into yours.”
“What are you –”
“New York, you said. What was that like, Bambi? Take a lotta drugs?Fucka bunch of rich scumbags? Sell your soul to the mother fuckin’ wolves of Wall Street?”
I held a hand out as he towered over me, stepping closer and closer until my back collided with the kitchen island.
“Hunter you’re drunk…”
