Room 9 and Other Ghost Stories

by Amy Cross

  “Get off me!” he shouts, trying to slip out of her grip.

  “Eddie, I -”

  “Get off me!” he shouts again, this time pulling free with enough force that she falls down onto the bed. “Jesus Christ, what's wrong with you?”

  She immediately gets up and runs back over to him, and this time there are tears in her eyes.

  “I get it,” she continues, “you're scared, but that's okay. Girls like that Miranda Clarke slut must've almost put you off fans for life, but if you just give me a chance -”

  “Please -”

  “I love you,” she insists, “and I know you'll love me too! We're soul-mates!” With that, she leans toward him and tries to kiss him, but he ducks away and instead runs out into the other room, only for her to follow.

  “This is insane,” he tells himself, hurrying toward his phone. “What the hell is wrong with me, I never should have -”

  “Don't call security!” she shouts, lunging at the phone but missing it and landing on the sofa. She quickly gets up and turns back to him. “Eddie, don't let the fear control you! We're made for each other!”

  “Here's what I need you to do,” he replies, clearly trying to take charge of the situation. “I need you to leave. I'm sorry if I led you on or if I gave you any false encouragement, but there is no way that this can happen, okay?”

  “You've been hurt,” she whimpers, “I understand that, your heart's been broken by the horrible girls you've dated before and that Alessandra Moravio you're with now. She's so fake -”

  “Get out of here!” he shouts, grabbing her by the arm and trying to drag her toward the elevator.

  “Eddie!”

  “God damn it!” he shouts, running to the bedroom and grabbing her clothes before taking them back to her and thrusting them into her arms. “You don't get it, do you? I thought you were on the level! I thought you were going to help me, but you just told me a pack of lies!”

  “That was just to get into your room,” she sobs. “I thought you'd understand! Eddie, you just need to give it some time so you can see why we're so good together!”

  “No time,” he mutters, jabbing at the Call button. “Jesus Christ, if the press see you here...” He turns to her. “You can't go to the papers!”

  “Why would I do that?” she asks. “I love you! I'm your biggest fan! I know all that stuff they write about you is lies. They're just jealous! I always knew you were talented, and tonight you proved it. You can be bigger than John Lennon! You can be bigger than anyone!”

  As soon as the elevator door slides open, Eddie grabs her arm and bundles her inside, before hitting the button for the lobby and stepping back into the suite.

  “Okay,” she continues, clutching her clothes, “I think I see what's wrong. You're overwhelmed. It's cool, Eddie, I'm not one of those clingy girlfriends. I'll go and give you some space, and then I'll get in touch tomorrow. We can go out, get a drink somewhere, maybe talk things over?”

  “I'm sorry,” he replies, shaking his head.

  “I'll call the hotel and get put through to your room,” she tells him, wiping tears from her face. “I won't let things end between us, Eddie. You'll see. One day you'll thank me for making you recognize the truth.”

  She continues to profess her love for him as the door slides shut, but finally the chamber starts to descend and Eddie takes a step back, clearly savoring the quiet of the room.

  “Fuck,” he says, looking down at his shaking hands. “Crazy ass bitch...”

  Heading over to counter, he grabs another bottle of champagne and begins to open it, but his hands are shaking so much that he really struggles to get the cork out. Finally he fills one of the flutes from earlier before downing it and filling it again. Glancing over at the guitar, he pauses for a moment before setting the drink down and hurrying across the room. He grabs the guitar, stares at it with a look of disgust on his face, and then he starts strumming a few chords with increasing anger until finally he snaps:

  “Fuck!” he shouts, throwing the guitar against the wall with such force that it smashes a hole in the plasterboard, although the instrument itself falls down unbroken to the floor.

  Stepping past the sofa, he smashes his foot down and breaks the guitar's neck.

  “Fucking bullshit!” he shouts, before grabbing his glass and downing yet another drink. Picking up the champagne bottle, he starts swigging directly from the neck while he brings up a number on his phone and waits for someone to answer.

  “It's me,” he says finally. “What's wrong, Ellen, are you fucking asleep? Fine, fuck you, here's the voice-mail I should have left you a long time ago. You wanna know what decision I made tonight? Never Turn Back is over! The band is dead, finished. Call the other guys and tell them we had a good run, but I'm out. If they want to carry on without me that's their choice, but me...” He stares down at the broken guitar. “I don't know what I'm going to do, but I'm never going back into that band, and I'm not doing any press for the new album either. That chapter of my life is over.”

  Cutting the call, he tosses the phone onto the sofa before taking the bottle of champagne over to the patio door and staring out at the swimming pool again.

  He takes another swig, his eyes searching the reflection of the room, as if he's expecting to see something.

  Breathlessly, he finishes the champagne and then drops the bottle, which lands hard but doesn't break.

  Silence.

  He keeps watching the reflection of the room.

  He's starting to understand.

  After a moment, a gentle breeze ruffles the hairs on the back of his neck. He reaches up to scratch them, his eyes still darting from one part of the room's reflection to another.

  And then he freezes.

  Silence.

  He knows.

  He stares straight ahead, as if he knows what he's seen but can't quite bring himself to look directly at it. There's obvious fear in his eyes, and after a moment he opens his mouth as if to say something. He can see the truth reflected in the door, as if it's always been there but he hasn't noticed before.

  Slowly, he turns and looks straight into my eyes.

  “Hello Eddie,” I say finally, unable to hide an excited smile. “I've been waiting so long for you to notice me.”

  IV

  He stays completely still, just staring at me with an expression of utter disbelief. It's almost as if he's stalled, as if his mind can't process the fact that I'm here.

  He looks so cute when he's confused.

  “I've been with you since you arrived at the hotel,” I tell him, hoping to break the ice and make him feel more at ease. “I was waiting outside when those people were shouting questions at you, and I was in the elevator when you came up here with your publicist and the hotel manager, and then I was with you when you were alone and when you went out for a walk. You didn't see me but I think you sensed me, didn't you? You didn't see the other ghosts when you were out tonight, but I'm different. Like, when you felt me near you and you scratched the back of your neck? We have a kind of connection, Eddie.”

  “Who are you?” he asks hesitantly.

  “You know who I am,” I reply, smiling at him. “Why would you even ask that?”

  “I, uh...” He takes a step back, before looking over at his phone.

  “I've been waiting so long for you to come back,” I continue, forcing myself to hold back from rushing over to him. “Sometimes I even wondered if you would come back, but I kept the faith.”

  “But -”

  “Did you like it when I turned the TV on earlier?” I ask. “When my mother was on that show, talking about you and me? I did that for you, so you could see how everyone was still talking about you.”

  “This is some kind of trick!” he shouts, looking around the room as if he expects someone else to be watching. “Whoever's doing this, you're sick!”

  “Play a song for me,” I continue. “It was sweet when you played for that girl earlier, but she didn't deserv
e it. She's not a real fan, Eddie. She doesn't really care about you, she just wanted you because you're famous. I could tell she was bad news as soon as you met her in that cafe, but I had to let the evening take its course. It was funny how she kept talking about being able to see ghosts, even though I was right with you both all the time and she didn't notice me. I knew she'd turn out to be a slut, though. I'm so glad you saw through her act and threw her out.”

  “Fuck,” he mutters, grabbing his phone and bringing up a number. He waits for a moment, and I can see the sense of panic in his eyes. “Ellen!” he shouts finally. “Wake the fuck up and answer your goddamn phone!” He glances over at me. “She's here,” he adds, his voice trembling with fear. “It's that Miranda Clarke girl, I know it sounds crazy and I don't even understand it but she's here, she... She's right in front of me, she's... she's... Fuck it, I'm coming down to your room.”

  Cutting the call, he tosses the phone onto the sofa before hurrying to the elevator and hitting the Call button several times.

  “Where are you going?” I ask.

  “I'm hallucinating,” he says to himself, not looking at me. “Someone must have put something in my drink.”

  “You have to stay, Eddie. I've waited so long for you to come back. I'm your biggest fan.”

  “What the fuck is wrong with this elevator?” he shouts, repeatedly jabbing the button.

  “It's not working right now,” I tell him. “I sort of... cut it off.”

  He turns to me with a horrified expression.

  “You're looking at this all wrong,” I continue. “Eddie... Sing me a song. I've been struck here for so long, I haven't even heard your last few albums. Can you believe that? When I snuck into this suite all those years ago, I just wanted to see you, or to be near you, or -”

  “Are you a ghost?” he asks suddenly.

  I pause, trying to work out how to explain this all to him.

  “Are you a fucking ghost?” he shouts, hitting the Call button again while keeping his eyes on me. “Is that what's happening here? Or are you a hallucination? Are you just something in my fucking mind, like... a brain tumor?”

  “I only wanted to meet you,” I continue, trying not to sound too desperate. “When I got into your suite the first time, I couldn't believe it. Like, I was shaking with anticipation and fear and just total happiness, but then I remember hearing the elevator coming up and I got scared, I was worried you'd be mad at me, so I...” Turning to look at the patio door for a moment, I pause as I think back to that night so long ago when I was out there in the dark, trying to find somewhere to hide as I heard voices coming from the suite; it already feels like an ancient dream. “I hid,” I tell him. “I know that sounds stupid, but it was all I could think to do. I was lucky, or I thought I was lucky at the time. I find this really good place to hide and I used it, but... Then I couldn't get out.”

  I continue to stare at the door for a few seconds before realizing that Eddie hasn't said anything for a while. Turning back to him, I see that all the color seems to have drained from his face.

  “Don't be scared,” I continue, hurrying over to him. “Eddie -”

  “Keep back!” he shouts, taking a step away.

  “I'm your biggest fan,” I reply. “Who else would have waited all this time for you? Do you have any idea how many other people have stayed in this suite since you were last here? God, some of them were so boring. Some of them were famous, too, but I didn't care, not about any of them, you're the only one I care about, Eddie. It's always been you. When the suite was empty, I'd turn on the TV and try to find you on the news. I didn't have very much luck, but...” I pause for a moment. “You look really good. Like, even hotter than before. You are without a doubt the most gorgeous guy on the whole planet.”

  “I'm losing my mind,” he continues, taking a couple more steps back. “I'm losing my fucking mind!”

  “You swear more than I expected,” I tell him.

  “It has to be a tumor,” he mutters. “I'm freaking out here.”

  “Let's sit and talk,” I reply. “We'll get on really well, I promise. It won't be like with that Lucy slut. I'm nothing like her. When she got all naked and tried to get you into bed tonight, I was like, wow, how desperate is she? She wasn't even that hot. You didn't think she was hot, did you?”

  “You're not real.”

  “I've been through all of this for you,” I tell him. “When I first came here and hid, I didn't mean to... I mean, my plan wasn't for it to happen that way. I was just panicking and I looked for somewhere you wouldn't find me, and...” I turn and look over at the patio door again. “I chose the worst place to hide, but I suppose in a way it was also the best place because it means that I'm here now.”

  “You hid?” he asks, before making his way to the door and sliding it open. Stepping out to the side of the swimming pool, he turns back to me as I follow him. “Is that what this is? You're some kind of... mind game? You're trying to tell me what happened to you?” He turns to me. “Oh, I get it! This is my mind trying to help me solve the mystery! I sort of saw a movie like this once!”

  “It's really me,” I tell him.

  He shakes his head, as if he still can't quite believe how much I love him.

  “They looked everywhere for me,” I continue. “I was scared, but they missed the one place where I was actually hiding. Then again, even if they'd found me, it would have been too late. I didn't last very long in there.”

  “Let me get this straight,” he continues. “Just hold up. You're really Miranda Clarke?”

  I nod.

  “And you've been hiding here waiting for me to come back?”

  “Yes, Eddie. I -”

  “All this time?”

  I nod again.

  “That's insane.”

  “I was in the old water tank,” I tell him, pointing to the wall at the far end of the patio area. “It's not used anymore because they installed a new one years ago, so I guess that's why they never looked for me in there. They didn't even know about it, and the people who own the hotel forgot that it existed.”

  “What the fuck are you talking about?” he replies, hurrying around the pool. “What water tank?”

  “If you climb up onto that ledge,” I continue, “there's a panel on top. I found it by accident when I was trying to find somewhere to hide. Pull it open and you can see into this tank of water, it used to be something to do with the pool but it's just closed-off and stagnant now.”

  “And you've been hiding in there all these years?”

  “Hiding,” I reply, “or... just... waiting. For you. And now you're here, and we can be together.”

  “What the actual fuck?” he asks, hauling himself up onto the ledge and then searching for the panel. When he finds it, he struggles to get it open, but finally he swings the door up and holds it so he can see inside.

  “I admit I was scared at first,” I tell him, joining him up on the ledge. “I would have called for help, but... Well, you see why I couldn't, right? I tried, but there was too much water in my mouth. At least it was quick, and it didn't hurt, not really. I panicked and tried to bang on the side for someone to come and help me, but no-one heard. Drowning in cold, dark water is kind of... lonely...”

  “But this is just...” He stares down at the dark water in the hidden tank. “It's just full of water. How the hell could anyone hide in there? Have you been living in here all this time? None of this makes any sense.”

  “Not living, no.”

  “Then what?”

  “Look closer,” I tell him.

  Leaning further into the tank, he still can't see it.

  “This is insane,” he says after a moment. “There's no way someone could -”

  Suddenly he falls silent.

  “Do you understand now?” I ask, smiling as I realize that the moment has finally arrived after all these years. “Do you see how we can be together forever?”

  “What the fuck is that thing?” he replies, leaning
even further through the hatch.

  “It's me, silly,” I tell him. “Waiting for you.”

  Closing my eyes, I allow my soul to return to my body. The process takes just a moment, and finally I'm able to open my eyes and look up through the water. I can see Eddie above, staring down at me with a slowly growing sense of horror, as if he finally understands what he's looking at. There's a look of shock in his eyes, as if he still can't quite face the truth, and after a moment I realize that there's a danger of him making the wrong decision.

  Finally, with no other option, I reach up through the water with my rotten right arm and I grab his shoulder, pulling him down toward me.

  He crashes into the water, letting go of the panel in the process and allowing it to swing shut, sealing us in just like it sealed me in when I came in here to hide all those years ago. In the pitch black water, I wrap my arms around him, and although I can feel him desperately struggling as water starts filling his lungs, I know he'll be calm soon. We're going to be together forever, just the two of us, me and my man, the way it was always meant to be. As he stops struggling and sinks down to the bottom of the water tank with me, I keep my arms around him and smile. The water's so cold and dirty, but the long wait is over. He's mine.

  Finally, I lean through the darkness and plant a kiss next to his wide-open mouth.

  ***

  The suite is completely still and silent. Now that the police and investigative teams have finished their work and left, the whole top level of the hotel has been sealed off, almost like a tomb.

  Silence.

  Suddenly the TV switches on, showing a news channel.

  “- the disappearance of music sensation Eddie Donohue,” the newsreader says over shots of Eddie's publicist Ellen hurrying out of the hotel with his former girlfriend Alessandra. “Despite an extensive search of the suite where the singer was staying, no trace of him has been found. Police are now believed to be working on the theory that he might have deliberately staged his disappearance in order to escape the pressure of his public life. Donohue was under pressure to remain in the pop band Never Turn Back, and there were also mounting questions surrounding the disappearance some years earlier of a young fan named Miranda Clarke who -”