Nick stood naked in their hotel room, his bloody clothes crumpled at his feet. The air conditioner clicked on, its muffled roar shaking him out of his reverie. Across the room, a movement caught his eye.
He turned and looked the intruder straight in the eye. The intruder stared back. Nick sighed. It was his reflection in the mirror over the dresser. He shook his head and started to walk away.
Intruder.
He stopped, then turned and walked back to the mirror. The man on the other side was him, but not him. Pale, bruised, bloody. He leaned closer. Was this him? It didn't seem real. Maybe Nick was an intruder. Maybe he had switched places with the man in the mirror, and here they were, living each other's lives. He placed his hand on the glass, palm flat and fingers spread. For a moment, he imagined that if he pushed hard enough, he could break through the glass and back into his own world.
So he closed his eyes and pushed.
And then the moment passed, and he felt nothing but silly - he, a grown man wishing for a way through the looking-glass.
His eyelids fluttered open. Again he stared, but not at his reflection. Small red specks lined his cuticles and the creases in his knuckles.
"Blood," he muttered. "So much blood. So much…"
Gaze fixed on his hand as though he were hypnotized, Nick made his way to the bathroom.
He turned on the faucet and stuck his hands under the lukewarm stream of water. He reached for the soap. Instead, his hand found her brush.
Forgetting the running water, Nick ran his fingers across the purple plastic. Silken strands of auburn hair zigzagged through the bristles, binding them in intricate knots. He touched his nose to the brush and inhaled. Coconut shampoo, a whiff of hairspray, and her. An ache blossomed in his chest as his last image of her invaded his brain. The brush clattered on the floor. He turned the water as hot as it would go and scrubbed until his blood mingled with hers.
The sink wasn't enough. He stepped into the shower.
___
Nick sat on the edge of the bed, his body scoured clean. He was forgetting something-
The phone. He grabbed the bloody pants and turned the pockets inside-out. His phone was in a back pocket. He fumbled with the buttons. The phone lit up. No messages. He sobbed, but whether in relief or impatience he couldn't tell.
"They'll call. They said they'll call when-" He cut himself off, not wanting to hear himself say the rest of the sentence.
"I should go to the hospital," he told himself. He went to his suitcase and pulled out some clean clothes. He had put on some pants and was in the middle of buttoning his shirt when he froze.
He couldn't go. She was there, but he couldn't go. He couldn't see her like that. He could still hear her screams, and the silence after the screaming stopped. Her blood was still on his hands; he couldn't see it, but it was there. It was his fault. She deserved more than him by her side as she died.
He couldn't go, but he couldn't stay here. He picked a slip of paper off the floor. It had been in the pocket of his bloody pants. He turned it over. It was a ticket for the hotel's casino. No, not a ticket. Her ticket. She had won a minor jackpot this afternoon. It was only eighty dollars, but she had giggled and thrown her arms around his neck like she did when they had just started dating.
Nick finished getting dressed and went downstairs to the casino.
___
He sat at a slot machine, ticket in hand. "This is ridiculous. I shouldn't be here."
"Excuse me?" A cocktail waitress was standing next to him, tray in hand.
"Sorry, what?"
"Did you want something to drink?" she asked.
"No. No thank you. Could you tell me where I can cash out?"
"Sure thing, hun. There's a cashier at the far end and a kiosk over there by the restrooms," she said, pointing behind him.
He thanked her and stood to seek out the kiosk.
The kiosk was a simple machine - ticket in, money out. Nick had just grabbed the cash when he heard shouting coming from one of the craps tables. She had always wanted to try craps, but Nick wasn't a fan of dice games. Too risky, he would declare haughtily, only to have her roll her eyes and ponder the wisdom of putting money into the dollar slots. She had almost talked him into it today.
"Why not? Craps it is, sweetpea."
___
The dice were hot tonight; Nick felt he had Lady Luck at his side. As he started another roll he felt the familiar tingle of his cellphone vibrating. It was the hospital. A cheer went up as the dice came to rest, but he barely heard it. He took out his phone and stared at the screen. Just answer it. He hit "OK" and brought the phone to his ear.
"Hello?" He listened to the doctor say the words he had been dreading and expecting, and Lady Luck slipped away.
She was dead.