Chapter 41

　　Patricia

　　I wake up with a start, feeling like something important is missing. I look around, and the absence of Dior hits me like a freight train. A sudden pang of loneliness strikes my chest like a bullet.

　　Lost and confused, my eyes dart around the room, searching for the man as if he would be found behind a piece of furniture. Fuck me. Did he leave?

　　My head throbs. I'm already planning on listening to Adelle and quench the fires of pain wracking through my body, but then I hear it, Dior whistling.

　　A song from my Youtube playlist is on low volume, and Dior is whistling along with it, as happy-go-lucky as ever. What the hell?

　　I stare at the bathroom door, and in a barely-awakened state, I slide down onto the floor. My feet touch wood, and I silently sail forward with my head emptied from thoughts. The bedroom is cold, and I'm met with a warm mist the second I push open the bathroom door.