Breakdown of Reality

               Leanne crossed herself as she crossed the threshold to the motel. It wasn’t very pretty, hell, it wasn’t even very sanitary, but it was the unappealing qualities that brought her here. She brushed her khaki skirt with her hand and then tugged on the collar of her green sweater, staring at the walls of the building. Yellowed with grime, Leanne could swear that she smelled the asbestos in the walls, and was that the smell of a funeral home? Formaldehyde?

               She grimaced nervously at the other patron in the lobby, a mildly obese Asian woman in a very short skirt, tight tank-top, and a pair of uncomfortable looking heels. Leanne wasn’t sure, but she thought she saw track marks running up her arm as well. She closed her eyes and sent a silent prayer to the Virgin Mother; she didn’t want to be like that, which is why she was here.

               Her stomach grumbled and she pointedly ignored it. Rent was due, so she had to make the choice of a roof and food, she’d chosen the roof. But that was why she was here. That was why she was doing this.

               She tugged her backpack close to her and started slowly walking up to the motel’s counter, which featured a very obese, hairy, and sweaty white man reading a porno mag behind bars. The bars opened up into a small slot. She unconsciously fingered the rosary in her sweater as she approached.

               “Excuse me,” she said quietly. The man didn’t even seem to notice.

               “Excuse me,” she said, louder now, and not a little bit frustrated. The man slowly looked up from his porno mag and snorted when he spotted Leanne.

               “You lost little lady?” he asked her.

               “No, I need a room,” she said.

               “Pretty thing like you,” he said, chuckling, “Gettin’ a room in a place like this?”

               It was obvious that he didn’t actually expect an answer to his question, so Leanne just kept quiet, nervously glancing about her. The man chuckled again and turned around, grabbing a key from the rack behind him.

               “Twenty bucks for the next four hours,” he said, waiting for her.

               She nodded; this was why she’d skipped food for a little while. She pulled out the money from the cleavage of her sweater. The man ogled her obviously as she did so. She slid the twenty through the slot in the bars, and the man grunted, sliding her key through.

               She grabbed it hurriedly and dashed up the stairs. The key read room 204. She ducked into the room quickly and pulled out her cell phone. Room 204, motel on the corner of 4^th and Fremont Street. She sent that in a text message to the number he’d given her.

               That out of the way she started scanning the room around her. It wasn’t any better than the motel lobby. She grimaced and started undressing. She’d bought a pair of sexy lingerie from Frederick’s of Hollywood, scarlet red like she’d heard he liked. She tucked her rosary in the lingerie. She pulled a pair of heels from the bag and then sat on the bed.

               When she heard the footsteps approaching the door she got up on the bed, on her knees, and pouted at the door. It crept open and he stepped through the door. A handsome man wearing an expensive power suit, he radiated confidence. He flashed a grin of pearly white teeth at her and started making his way to the bed, undressing as he did so.

               When he made it to the bed he was in a pair of black silk boxers.

               “You look stunning,” he told her, “Love the underwear. Don’t worry; it’ll only hurt a little.”

               With that and little more he undressed her, and did what it was they came here to do. He was wrong, it didn’t hurt a little, it hurt a lot. And when he finished she felt extremely dirty. He’d made her keep the rosary on the whole time, and she thought that was almost the worst part of it.

               As he got dressed he flashed her a grin.

               “You start on Monday,” he said.

               She nodded, and when he left she burst into tears.

               Christopher didn’t usually attend events, at least not recently, not since… the incident. But this was Beth-Amber’s wedding, little Beth-Amber his cousin, who he had such fond memories of playing with as a child, in the before times. His doctors weren’t sure he was ready for, trained for it, but he needed this, so reluctantly they let him go. So he wrapped himself in his strongest shields, not nearly strong enough his doctors warned him, and set off to see little Beth-Amber get married.

               His parents were ecstatic at the idea of seeing him again; they hadn’t since that man in the suit had come to their house and told them that Christopher was Special. It’d been months since they’d all gotten together. So here he was, in a nice suit and tie, his jaw length, dirty blonde hair combed and set back, sitting at his family’s table.

               He was fidgeting. He could feel them, outside his shield, their thoughts. Pounding at his shields, demanding to get in. He blocked them as best he could but already he knew it was inevitable. He’d made it through the ceremony, and what a beautiful ceremony it was.

              Beth-Allen was just as pretty as he’d remembered, long, straight, platinum blonde hair, petite sized with a gym toned figure, big beautiful blue eyes. Richard, her new husband, was tall, athletic, chiseled jaw, and commanding brown eyes.

               It was a tear jerking ceremony, but always Christopher couldn’t forget. Always the thoughts were there. Always they were pounding against his shields.

               It was when Richard’s best man, some frat brother that Christopher couldn’t remember the name of, got up to give his toast that it happened. The shields began to fall. It wasn’t much at first, a thought here and a thought there.

               Isn’t she just beautiful?

               Why can’t my girl find a guy like that?

               But as the speech continued the cracks grew and the shields fell, and then… and then Christopher had no protection.

               Christopher stared shocked at his father as he listened to him think about his dalliance with a young boy in the neighborhood. Then gasped softly as he heard his mother’s affair with the same boy. His brother kept thinking how he hoped that their parents wouldn’t realize how high he was. His sister wondered if she was pregnant.

               The best man sat down and Christopher caught a glimpse of the orgy that happened at the bachelor party, hookers, booze, and drugs abounding.

               He caught the look and the thought as Richard eyed one of the bridesmaids. He had plans and hopes for tonight.

               Beth-Amber hoped Richard would get the promotion so that they’d be more financially secure. And maybe he’d be too busy to catch onto the affair she’d been having with a local biker.

               Everywhere secrets, everywhere tragedies waiting to happen, Christopher saw it all.

               He stood up hurriedly; his parents looked at him quizzically. He shot them an apologetic and pained look as he rushed away, phone already out, calling his doctors.

               He couldn’t help but catch their last thought as he left.

               Of course, no surprise there, disappointing as always.

               Whatever, he thought, haven’t you people ever heard of closing a goddamn mind.

———————-

Bonus points if you can guess the song that inspired this!