Hate to Forget

by L V Chase

  As soon as Mr. Miller dismisses us from biology, he bolts out of his chair and leaves the class. When I stand up, pulling my backpack over my shoulder, Roman spins around while also standing up. I recoil, bumping against my chair. His taunting smile puts me on unsteady ground. Ethan gives me a brief smile, but he leaves class without any indication that he notices something is wrong.

  So, he’s not perfect, but there’s a long distance between imperfection and Klay.

  I start to walk away from the lab table, but Roman reaches forward, grabbing my wrist. I try to pull away. He doesn’t let go.

  “So,” Roman says. “I have an idea. You’re going to love it.”

  “Oh?” I say. I don’t want to provoke him, but I’m ready to detonate.

  “We’re going to go on a date tonight.”

  I crack a nervous smile, but his expression doesn’t change. My smile falters.

  “You hate me,” I say. “Why would you want to go on a date with me?”

  “I’m giving you a chance to change my mind,” he says. “Convince me that you’re worth my time and not just another whore.”

  I shake my head. “There’s no way I’m going anywhere with you.”

  He frowns. “Well, I figured you might be stupid enough to say that, so I have something that might add some incentive.”

  I freeze as he puts his hand in his pocket, but he only pulls out his phone. He taps on the screen four times.

  “So, what you might not know is that a few rooms in my house have surveillance cameras. Just the ones that have things that are valuable to my father. Most people in town know about it, so I know they won’t even try to steal from my family. But maybe you didn’t know that, or you’d know I have this. I could release it to the whole school.”

  He turns the phone around and taps on the screen.

  The video shows me sitting in an antique chair near a grand piano. My movements are loose, and I’m drinking from a glass that’s filled with a reddish-orange liquid. Roman is standing in front of me. We’re talking. He abruptly leaves. I touch my temple and move my hands in front of me like I’m seeing something that’s not there. I tap my finger in the air.

  Seeing this, I can almost understand why I lost two years’ worth of memories. I am drunk to the point that I should be unconscious. I look like a crackpot.

  Someone walks into the frame. My heart skips a beat as I recognize Klay. He kneels down beside me. The camera isn’t clear enough to see his expression. He lifts up my chin with his finger. He stares at me. It looks like he’s talking. I respond. His hand drops away from my face, but he continues talking to me.

  I grab onto the phone, trying to look closely enough to figure out what our facial expressions are. Roman snatches it away from me. I try to nab it back, but he pulls it out of my grasp.

  “Wait, please,” I say. “I need to see the rest of that video.”

  “What the fuck,” His nostrils flare “No. Why?”

  Because I need to figure out my past relationship with Klay. I need to know why I feel this way about him and why he acts like he does around me.

  “Because I don’t remember that night,” I say. “I just want to figure out what happened.”

  His eyes narrow. “You want to see what you and Klay were doing.”

  I hesitate. He slams his fist against the table. I flinch, but he doesn’t scare me as much now. He’s spent this whole time getting under my skin, and now I’m under his.

  “Of course,” he sneers. “You’re only motivated to see more of Klay.”

  He stuffs the phone back into his pocket. I want too much for him to let me see it again. I need to get him to release it like he’d threatened to, but I don’t know what else is on the video. For all I know, Klay and I had drunken sex, and he came to regret it, which is why he acts so strangely with me.

  I need to steal that phone from him.

  “Okay,” I say. “As long as you don’t release that video, I’ll go on a date with you.”

  His frown deepens. He eyes me suspiciously. A smile slowly breaks over his face.

  “That’s what I thought,” he says.

  He winks at me. I almost regret agreeing to it already, but my thoughts are stirring wildly. I remember the sugary taste of the orange juice in the tequila sunrise and the feeling of Klay’s finger under my chin. I need to remember more. I need to know exactly how our lives interwove and commit it to memory.

  16

  Sadie

  Roman doesn’t talk as he drives me to our date. I prefer it that way, but it means I have no idea where we’re going. To add to the anxiety, in his Hummer, it feels like we’re driving far above everybody else, and if we were in an accident, I’d be flung out of it like a cannonball.

  I grip onto my knee, bracing my body against the car seat. It’s been awhile since my fear of car crashes dominated my thoughts, but with Roman in the driver’s seat, it’s coming back with a vengeance. He drives recklessly, often speeding up behind cars and jerking into the other lane to pass them. He keeps looking over at me as if he’s daring me to question his driving. I won’t give him the satisfaction. I’m not a marionette doll for him to play around with and, at this point, I’m hoping he simply gets bored of me.

  He pulls into an expansive dirt driveway. His Hummer takes wide turns down it. The first part of the building I see is the vast roof. As we take the final turn, I see all of the faded brick of the building and the five floors that turn it into a monster. The only part that could make it appealing is the window trims, but those are disfigured by the yellow staining, abandoned nests perched on them, and the fractures running through the wood.

  As Roman parks in front of the building, I see the sign.

  Primrose Hotel.

  “It doesn’t look like it’s open,” I remark, chewing on the inside of my cheek.

  “It’s not open for staying at,” he says, resting his elbow on the small space beside my seat’s headrest. “It’s a haunted hotel. The folklore around this place is crazy. Machetes. Murders. Angry spirits. With Halloween coming up, I figured it’d be a fun date.”

  “Halloween is nearly a month away,” I say.

  “Which means it won’t be busy,” he says. “It’s not even supposed to be open, but the owner kept it unlocked for me. We get to investigate it on our own. You don’t believe in ghosts, do you, Sadie?”

  “I don’t know,” I answer honestly, looking over at the hotel.

  After my parents died, I avoided thinking too much about death. The last thing I would want is for them to be trapped here on earth, even if it meant I could talk to them.

  It doesn’t matter. From the grin on his face, this has nothing to do with ghosts or Halloween. He only wants another chance to humiliate me.

  He gets out of his Hummer. When I jump out, the air outside smells like damp mold. Roman strides up toward the hotel, not looking back to see if I’ll follow him. I’m tempted to sneak into the driver seat of his Hummer, but he must have the keys, and I need to get close enough to him to get his phone.

  I walk quickly to the house, catching up to Roman as he opens the door. Last time he pulled out his phone, it was in his right pants pocket. I’ll need a good distraction to nab the phone without him noticing.

  Inside the hotel, it’s barren with a creakiness that seems to exist without any provocation. Once we step inside, we’re facing a long front desk. On our right is a spiral stairway. In between the two of them, a hallway stretches forward. On the left are three steps that lead to a large wooden door with a deep dent in the center of it.

  “Let’s go check some of the rooms,” Roman says, grabbing my wrist. He yanks on my arm, but I don’t move. He spins around, facing me. “Come on. Don’t be a pussy.”

  “I’m not going anywhere with you,” I say. “Not in a hotel.”

  “It’s a haunted hotel,” he says. “I’m not going to fuck you while some demons watch us. Unless you’re into that. Then, hail Satan.”

  “No,” I say fir
mly. “I just—”

  The house creaks loudly. Above us, I hear a loud clanking noise.

  “Finish your sentence,” Roman says. “What? Did you think I’d be the type to take a girl to a restaurant and wine and dine her? Come on. Don’t be stupid.”

  “I’m going to check out this room,” I say, pointing to the door with the dent.

  He throws up his hands. “Jesus Christ, you’re a paranoid freak. Not everybody wants to fuck you!” he scoffs. “I’m going to go down the hallway, and if I get chopped to pieces by a ghost, you’ll have to be the one to explain to the police that you didn’t come with me because you were certain that I wanted to have sex with you.”

  He stalks down the hallway. I watch him until he turns, heading down another hallway.

  I should be happy that he’s gone. I should be celebrating. But this hotel is a menace. It smells like decay. It’s in such disrepair that it should have collapsed onto itself, but it remains upright with shadows swaying every time I turn away from them.

  Minutes tick by. I should go check out the room with the dented door. I told Roman I was going to. If he returns and I haven’t moved, he’ll see me as a coward forever.

  But I wait.

  Whoever owns this hotel now kept it unlocked for Roman. What if he never locks it? Anything could be in here. Rabid raccoons, a confused coyote, a murderer that’s been hiding out here and is pissed that his secret location has been discovered.

  Roman had been worried about ghosts, but what about a real person? He could be dead right now, and I wouldn’t know because I hadn’t gone with him.

  I start walking down the hallway. All of the doors are closed. I check the door handle on a couple of them, but they’re all locked. I keep moving. I turn where Roman had turned, but it’s not a hallway like I’d assumed. It’s an alcove with a door. The other doors had peepholes and placards with numbers on them, but this one is simpler and devoid of hardware.

  I try the door handle. The door opens.

  It’s nearly pitch-black inside, but I can see the beginning of some rickety wooden stairs.

  I take a deep breath. I take the first step. It holds my weight. I take the next one. It groans loudly, but it feels stable. I take the next few steps as carefully as possible. I dash down the rest of them.

  My shoes hit against hard cement. It’s a basement. I hear something dripping. I expected to see Roman once I was down here, but as my eyes adjust to the darkness, I don’t see him anywhere. The basement is mostly pipes and walls, and it smells soggy and stale. I cautiously walk deeper into the basement.

  I wander through the various rooms that form the basement. It reminds me of a coal mine with its long hallways, damp odor, and dirtied walls. If a murderer wanted to hide out somewhere, this would be a criminal sanctuary.

  Sweat prickles the back of my neck. Every instinct is telling me to run, but a morbid curiosity pushes me forward. Plus, Roman still has that phone.

  I stop in a room with a washer and dryer fringed with rust. A small metal door is barely visible to the right of them with the corrosion making it nearly match the wall.

  Hands grab onto my arm. I twist around, panic gripping me. I don’t feel much better when I see it’s Roman. We grapple with each other, fighting for control. He slams me against the dryer, and my back muscles spasm against the sudden shock. He pulls me towards the door, yanking it open. I grip onto his jacket as he tries to shove me inside it, but it’s useless. He’s twice my size.

  He rips his jacket out of my hands and overpowers me, forcing me into the small room. I step back onto something soft and squishy. By the time my eyes adjust to this new darkness and I see it’s a mop, he’s slammed the door shut. Something loud scrapes across the floor as I try to get out. The door barely budges. I can’t open it. I’m trapped.

  Flashes of a memory sink into my mind. A metal door. Cramped space. Smells like pee.

  “Oh, no,” Roman sneers through the door. “Is the princess trapped? You thought you were safer going your own way, but it looks like you were wrong. Consider yourself lucky. I could have done much worse things to you. But I think you need a little time out to think about your choices. I’ll come back for you…maybe tomorrow. Maybe after that. I don’t think you should be able to go to the dance tomorrow. Maybe it will remind you that you’re not Cinderella, getting ready for the ball. Good night, Sadie.”

  “Roman!” I bang against the door. “Roman! You can’t leave me here! I need water. I need—I’ll die without water here.”

  I press my ear against the door. Silence. He’s not there. He’s not smart enough to consider that I’d need water.

  I pull out the cell phone Ethan bought me. I check the contacts. The only number saved on it is Ethan’s. I tap on the number, holding it up to my ear. He doesn’t pick up. I don’t want to embarrass myself by calling nine-one-one. I call my home number. It rings three times before the answering machine picks up.

  I look down at my left hand, where I’m clutching another phone. Roman’s. I managed to grab it while I was struggling against him. I tap on the icon with the photographs on it. Inside the app, I find his videos. It’s the most recent video. I tap on it.

  I rewatch Klay and me interacting. After he disappears from view of the surveillance camera, he returns. We talk shortly. He puts his arm around me and helps me to my feet. I don’t struggle against him. I seem happy to have him there. We carefully move toward the room’s doorway and walk out.

  Where did we go?

  I should be concerned that he could have taken advantage of me, but in my gut, I can’t imagine that’s what happened. It makes the most sense—he could have roofied me, which could explain some of my memory loss—but my denial is back in full force. I might as well die with some blind optimism.

  I exit out of the app. I find Roman’s contacts. I pass by Ethan’s name and numerous girls’ numbers. Klay’s name is there.

  Even if they had been friends before, it seems strange Roman would keep his number. I wouldn’t keep the number of someone who had attacked me twice.

  I hesitate for a second, but I don’t have a choice. I could die here and, no matter how much vitriol he spits at me, I’m certain Klay will save me. Somewhere in his violent mind, he has a compulsion to protect me.

  “What the fuck do you want?” he answers.

  I pause. I should be surprised that he answered Roman’s number at all, but the amount of hatred in his voice is overwhelming.

  “I’m hanging up,” he says.

  “No, wait,” I say.

  Silence.

  “Sadie?” he asks finally, his voice slicing between concern and hurt. “Why are you on Roman’s phone?”

  Oh. He must think we’re on a date or something. Well, we are, but it’s taken an abnormal turn.

  “Well, uh, he took me to a haunted hotel, and he locked me in a room in the basement. I think it’s a closet. Maybe a utility closet. I can’t get out. And I took his phone off of him. It’s a long story.”

  “What the fuck,” he mutters.

  I’d laugh if it weren’t such a dire situation.

  “Primrose Hotel, right?” he asks.

  “Yes.”

  “I’ll be there soon,” he says. “Ten minutes at most.”

  “You’re ten minutes away?”

  “If I break a few laws, I’m ten minutes away,” he says. “I’ll be right there.”

  The line goes dead. I sit down on the floor. There’s a faint outline of light around the edges of the door, though I know it’s only slightly brighter outside. I’m in a kaleidoscope of darkness.

  Time scrapes by. I should be more worried about the idea of Klay not showing up, but I know he will. I don’t know why I’m willing to risk my life on his altruism when he’s a selfish dick, but it’s a hill I’m literally winning to die on.

  It’s my Devil’s Leap.

  I close my eyes, replaying that fantasy in my mind. Pinned against his Jeep. My cheek pressed against the glass. His finger
tips pushing so hard into my hips that I can feel it in my bones. His mouth under my ear. Him buried deep inside me, turning me into someone possessive and self-absorbed so that all I care about is the accelerating passion pulsing inside me.

  There’s a scraping noise right outside of the door. The door opens. I start to stand up, expecting Klay, but Roman’s silhouette looms over me.

  “Give me my phone,” he says, holding out his hand. “You’re such a bitch. You’re barely worth the time.”

  I pick up his phone and offer it to him. He snatches it out of my hand and shoves it into his pocket.

  “You looked at the video, didn’t you?” he accuses.

  “Yes.”

  He grabs me by the arm, yanking me up.

  “Fuck you,” he says, spit hitting against my chin.

  With him being several inches taller than me and his hand gripped so tightly around my arm, it would only take a couple of seconds for him to break it. I should be terrified. I laugh in his face instead.

  “Why the fuck are you laughing?” he asks.

  My upper lip curls up in disdain. “Because Klay is coming here to pick me up.”

  His eyes widen, his mouth goes slack, and his head turns to look over his shoulder. He lets go of my arm and takes a step back. With his head slightly turned to look behind himself, I can see the faint bruising that litters his face.

  “Well,” he says. “It’s just like you to need a man to save you. Or are you full of shit?”

  “I used your phone,” I say, barely raising my hand to point towards his phone. He glances down at it too. “Check your call history. We talked for about twenty seconds.”

  He checks his phone. I know when he’s found his call history because he curses under his breath. He looks at me, his lips pressed tightly together.

  “I have better things to do than fuck around with you,” he says. “I just wanted my phone.”