Part Two
Elle returned to her room down the hall from her doctor’s office. It took her thirty-seven steps to get from one door to the next. She counted thirty-seven daily, and if she missed a step, she’d start over.
Numbers had always been her favorite pass time, a lovely distraction from the ordinary. At her father’s house it would take thirteen steps from her car to the front door. Thirteen steps every day. She would jiggle the door knob five times to make sure it was properly locked behind her. Five times every day. She would flip the lights on and off and on again in each room of the house. Simple turning on a light did not sit well. She enjoyed the shock that would overcome her body as it flashed before her eyes. The brightness felt familiar, but the darkness that followed was comforting. Logically, one cannot simply live in darkness, so on the light would stay.
Her room at the facility did no accommodate her obsession. She did not like even numbers. It was too definite, but as she entered, there it stood in front of her. Two beds set parallel to each other, lining the opposite walls accordingly. Each made with its simple, off white comforter and matching pillows, two for each bed. Each bed was accompanied by a small off white lamp set delicately upon the side table which housed two drawers.
She stood in the door way, cringing at the crispness. It was too clean and orderly. Moments passed before she noticed a fresh set of eyes taking in her disgusted expression. The stunning green jewels belonged to an equally attractive face, a young man about her age, no older than nineteen. His features were unique, making his appearance unlike any man she’d seen before. His eyes were wide, the shade of darkest emerald. As he looked at Elle, his absurdly large mouth curved into a strangely seductive smile.
“You’re a boy,” Elle said. Her simple statement held a world of questions.
“Last I checked, yes,” his smooth southern accent mad his mockery slightly charming.
“You’re in my room.” She passed him without a glance to sit on her bed, facing away from him defiantly.
He held up a paper for her to see. In bold letters it simply stated:
Room Assignment: 202
Suitemate: Elle Foster
“That makes you my roomie, Elle.” He leaned back on the bed, still inspecting her every movement.
“So why are you here?”
“Why don’t you guess, babe.”
“Sex addiction with a mild case of kleptomania,” Elle spoke flatly. She looked him in the eye for the first time. His smile was unsettling. He let out a quiet chuckle.
“You’re good”
“I got one too” she said, holding up an identical paper with one small difference:
Suitemate: Kit Tanner
“I thought you were a girl. I must have over looked that part of your file.”
Kit shrugged and scratched his head on which sat an attractive disarray of soft black curls.
“So what are you here for?”
“Take a guess”
“I’m hoping a case of bad judgment and lack of self-control around attractive men” his signature smile never left his face as he raised a single naturally arched eyebrow suggestively.
“Oh, you didn’t do your homework” Elle said, brushing her hair out of her face as she crossed her legs on her bed. She knew from the angle, Kit would get a sneak of her powder blue panties. She pretended not to notice his stare drift below the waist. “Suicidal tendencies, mild psychotic depression, Obsessive Compulsive Disorder, and slight paranoia, or so they say.”
“Sounds like a blast.” He said with a straight face.
“I killed a man and now everyone thinks I’m crazy.” She smiled widely, making her too innocent façade seem even more impenetrable. A look of unbelief flashed in Kit’s eyes as the words left her mouth. “Are you crazy?”
“Isn’t everyone a slight bit mad?”
Kit smiled in agreement. He was all too familiar with that philosophy. As he stared at the pretty young girl in front of him he could not help but wonder if everything she said was true or if it was just distorted form of reality.
“How many steps did it take you to get here?” Elle questioned him, changing the subject before he read too much into her words. “I count thirty-seven”
Kit leaned forward, placing his face just inches from Elle’s, smirking as he registered her question. “Thirty-seven, huh?
“You’re making fun of me.” Elle spoke defensively; no one had ever questioned her absurd actions.
“I’m not making fun of you. I just think you’re wrong” his face became serious for a brief second, and then disappeared, his seductive smirk returning instantly. “I counted thirty-five.”
“Thirty-five? Why not thirty-six?”
“I don’t like even numbers; they feel too common and boring.” Kit genuinely smiled at Elle, letting is wall of sexual confidence crumble and for the short moment he was young and vulnerable. Elle could see it, and with that knew exactly how to manipulate him.
