u/Formal_Ability6839

[RF] It Hadn't Always Been Like This

A man sits in an ER waiting room after a night he can barely remember. When a nurse asks if he recalls what happened, memories of a confrontation with the woman he loves begin to surface. In anger he said something he can never take back. Four years later, the moment still clings to him like something that won’t wash away.

---

I said something to the woman I loved that I could never take back.

Four years later, the blood still hasn't come off my hands.

---

It hadn’t always been like this.

The clock ticked above the nurse’s station.

The room was hot - sun-bleached and bright against my tired, hungover eyes. The fluorescent lights burned as I let out an exasperated sigh. It felt like an eternity sitting in the plastic ER chair.

I checked the time on my watch.

Four hours.

I had been waiting four hours.

Finally, a nurse emerged.

“Hi. Are you family?”

My cheeks flushed.

“No. I mean… I guess. I’m her… friend.”

“I see.”

She glanced over her shoulder, then sat down beside me.

I shuffled in the seat and lowered my eyes, my sweaty hands rolling an imaginary ball between them.

“She asked for you,” the nurse said.

My head lifted.

“For me?”

She nodded.

“She’s awake. A little confused, but awake.”

I exhaled without realizing I’d been holding my breath.

“What happened?” I asked.

The nurse studied my face like she was deciding how much I already knew.

“You really don’t remember?”

The clock ticked.

I swallowed, a lump stuck in my throat.

---

I remembered the way she laughed when she first got back from the trip.

Like nothing in the world had ever been wrong.

But something had welled inside me.

Something bitter.

I confronted her.

The smell of wine hung in the air as my head grew heavier and hotter in that room.

She was… scared.

Trying to defend herself.

Saying it was just emotional. That it didn’t mean anything.

When she said she loved him like family, it was a tie she couldn’t let go of.

She said she was trying to make enough money for us to get out - move somewhere else, start a family.

The room felt small.

Too small.

But something inside me had already snapped.

“I don’t see the point,” I said.

The words came out flat.

“I don’t want to have kids with someone like you.”

Tears welled in her eyes.

“Is that what you think of me?” she said softly.

For a moment, only a moment, I didn’t have an answer.

Then something in her face changed.

It happened so quickly I didn’t understand what I was seeing. Only the knife.

“Hey,” I said, standing up too fast. “He-”

Everything blurred after that - the sound of my voice, the soft thud, my hands shaking.

---

“No.”

They were still shaking.

The blood hadn’t come off.

The clock ticked.

Four years, and it was still there.

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u/Formal_Ability6839 — 11 hours ago

[SF] Room Seven

7. 7. 7.

The pump clicked off as I stood there watching the screen blink.

Disappear.
Reappear.
Disappear again.

I counted.

Seven seconds.

The nozzle slipped back into its cradle with a hollow knock. The pump’s LED asked if I wanted a receipt.

I declined.

When the car started, the radio came alive with a muffled drone, like it had been left underwater too long. The station was familiar, but the pitch was wrong, as if someone had nudged a record off center.

The street was empty as I pulled out.

The sun was sinking behind the mesas, turning the red desert burgundy. Clouds nested along their edges – soft, pink, delicate. Cotton candy clouds resting along the ridges, carefully arranged and forgotten.

The dashboard read 7:00.

I watched it for a moment.

Then I drove.

-

I don’t remember when I decided to drive to see her.

Truthfully, as the road stretched in front of me, the thought came suddenly that I had been drinking again. The idea arrived sharp and unwelcome, though I had given it up years ago.

I hadn’t spoken to her in months. I wasn’t even sure what I would say if I made it there.

Maybe, I thought as I rubbed my temples, someone else had decided.

Mile marker 77.

A smell reached me then – burning. 

At first I decided it was a brush fire, something smoldering somewhere out in the dark desert. Out there the land could burn for miles before anyone noticed.

Then clouds of smoke began to bloom from beneath my hood. 

-

The car died. 

The stars blinked above me as I held my face in my hands. The engine ticked softly as it cooled.

I stepped out onto the shoulder and stood there listening.

Nothing.

No traffic.
No wind.

The desert was quiet in a way that felt deliberate.

Across the highway sat a motel.

LUCKY NUMBER SEVEN.

A brittle LED sign flickered. Above it, a cartoon cowboy tried endlessly to lasso a bull.

The rope flashed in the air again and again, never quite catching. 

-

The office door chimed softly when I pushed it open.

“Hi, Nolan. Room for two?”

The clerk smiled as I fumbled with my wallet.

“What?” I let out a breath. “What? Uh ... no.”
He tilted his head slightly, confusion settling across his face.

“I’m sorry,” he said. “I thought you had company.”

I placed my card on the wood-paneled desk. 

A mounted stag’s head stared at me from behind the old man’s shoulder, its glass eyes bright in the fluorescent light. 

How did he know –

The clerk slid a brass key across the counter, a gold SEVEN emblem hanging from the ring. 

“Room seven.”

The metal was warm in my hand.

-

Outside, the night had grown colder.

The motel sat in a half circle around a gravel courtyard. Most of the rooms were dark. 

A single light hummed over the walkway. 

For a moment I stood there considering the highway again. The road stretched black and empty in both directions.

I imagined turning around. Walking back to the car. Waiting for morning.

But the key felt heavy in my hand.

So I walked. 

-

    1. 6 … 8?

The numbers glowed from fake prospector lanterns mounted beside the doors. 

I stopped.

The hallway stretched quiet and empty.

4.
5.
6.

Then 8. 

No seven.

I checked the key again.

At the far end of the hall stood a door that didn’t match the others.

The rest were red oak.

This one had been painted red. 

A small brass number hung at eye level. 

7.

-

As I got closer, I noticed a key hanging from the lock. 

The door was slightly ajar. A pale glow from a television wrapped around the opening and spilled across the walkway. 

I knocked.

The door creaked open a little further. 

-

The TV flickered blue against the walls.

The room smelled faintly of dust and something sweet – like someone had been drinking earlier. 

I stepped inside.

The television hummed softly.

I sat down on the edge of the bed.

The clock on the nightstand blinked: 7:07
For a moment, I thought I heard someone moving in the bathroom. 

Disappear.
Reappear.
Disappear again.

On the nightstand sat two glasses. 

One was empty. The other was still warm.

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u/Formal_Ability6839 — 23 hours ago