The effects of the sedative wore off pretty quickly, but Andrew still hated the fogginess behind the eyes and the slight headache he was feeling. Without looking he reached to the table. Picking up a plastic aspirin bottle, he flicked off the cap and tipped two tablets into his mouth. Unscrewing the cap of a water bottle, he took a long drink, swallowing loudly until the vessel was drained. He was always surprised how he felt neither tired nor fully rested. The hours were just lost time. Working time, for want of a better phrase.

Andrew was a regular at the hotel and had been for two years. The thrill of the exchange had challenged his views and he had seen things he could never have imagined. It was seductive, too seductive perhaps, and he could not resist its unique appeal. His stays became longer and more frequent as his finances ebbed away, which was how he became a passive visitor and how he came to inhabit Maria’s thoughts.

Six months earlier, when his finances had dwindled to all but nothing, Andrew had been forced to make a decision. He could get away from the hotel for good or find a new way to finance his desires. To believe there was any real decision was absurd; nights at the hotel were the only times he felt alive. He might as well have given up breathing.

Through dreams he had lived a myriad of lives and experienced a wide range of new emotions. He now knew what it was like to be a white collar thief; feeling the nagging guilt that pulsed beneath the exhilaration of remaining undetected. He knew the giddy excitement of obscene amounts of money; having it, seeing it, spending it. Yet he had also touched the inner turmoil of a priest fighting a daily battle between the principles of his faith and the palpably real desires of his flesh; felt the murderous rage of a sociopath hiding behind a mask of mundanity. On this emotional rollercoaster he’d been elated and defeated, agonised and exhilarated, disgusted and fascinated. How could he return to the numbing nothingness of reality, how could he stop?

A lack of options served to focus his mind on how to get extra money. Legally this was difficult, quick money impossible, so his decision was far from being the most original one and certainly not the brightest. Still, he knew that at 6ft and 180lbs he could be an intimidating presence. Add a mask, some attitude, and he was sure he could avoid too many questions. His only proviso, for a semblance of self-respect, was no guns.

Keeping things small time, he was proved correct in his assumption that he could make a go of this lifestyle. More importantly, his visits to the hotel continued unabated, making it easier to avoid questions of morality. However, he was not a natural in this line of work and there were too many close shaves. Over the weeks and months this had led to a rough description being reported. He was confident it was too vague to worry about, but it was something he hadn’t anticipated and it put him on edge. It was nothing that could be seen unless you happened to be a seasoned observer of people. Nothing unless you could see behind the eyes. Nothing unless you were Ellen.

Next Chapter: CHAPTER THREE - ELLEN