I give myself a mental shake and climb out of bed. I know I should have a shower while I have the chance – I don’t even know where I’m going to be sleeping after I leave here – but I can’t be arsed. Most of my things are already packed, so I quickly throw on yesterday’s clothes and toss everything else into the rucksack. I do a final sweep of the room, making sure nothing’s been left behind, under the beds or in a drawer or some other stupid place that will end up incriminating me, then I grab one of the towels from the bathroom and begin the process of wiping everything down.

The blood might be gone, and I have Ivan to thank for a good job there – but I can’t actually remember him doing it. I assume I had passed out by then. I can’t trust him to have wiped down everything else that I might’ve touched, and besides, I’ve been in there another night. I bundle up the sheets and pull off the pillowcases and roll them all into a big ball, then I hitch my rucksack onto my back, and have one final glance around. I catch sight of myself in the mirror, and I’m not surprised to see that I look like complete shit. My eyes are bloodshot, red-rimmed and decorated with dark circles beneath. My hair is greasy and matted – I don’t even know when I last washed it. My skin is a disturbing shade of grey.

I look away from the mirror, not wanting to dwell on it anymore. I shove a hand into my shorts, making sure I still have the cash, and then I pick up the bundle of sheets and towels and slip out of the room. The maid’s trolley is at the end of the corridor, but she is nowhere to be seen. I toss my laundry into the cart, then jumble it around a bit with the other stuff in there. No one will know which room it came from – it will all get thrown into the washer together, and if there does come a time when the events that occurred in my room are investigated for some reason, I’ll be long gone.