by Caverly, KR
But still, this whole situation just feels… wrong. Like everything else has tonight.
I walk up the stairs with my head down anyway, pretending to be normal, listening to the sound of the Beethoven music fade slowly away…
The hall at the third floor is totally empty. I walk through it with my heart pounding, but the buzz of excitement I usually get at the thought of Sebastian is gone tonight. Once I reach room 364, I stop. My heart pounds faster and faster, and I'm sure the guilt is written all over my face, but I know I have to do this anyway. I take a single deep breath before opening the door.
It creaks open, slow and steady, like they do in haunted houses. I step inside, closing the door behind me, holding my breath.
The room revealed is dark. Pitch black kind of dark. My heart hammers in my chest faster now, and I feel my stomach knot, feel the queasiness setting in. I take a tentative step forward, trying to stay calm.
The air in the room is cold. It's never been cold before. But now, it feels like this whole place hasn't been occupied for years. Another step. I can't see where I'm going. Oh hell, I can't see where I'm going.
"Sebastian?" I call. Nothing. I listen to the thump of my heart, beat, beat, beat.
The room is silent. Deathly silent.
"Sebastian?" I call again. My voice cracks a little, and I can feel my hands shaking. My heart pounds even faster. "Sebastian, answer me. This… this isn't a joke." A sinking feeling washes over me, because there is nothing. Nothing at all.
Then, something creaks behind me.
I spin around immediately. My heart leaps into my throat. But when I scan the area, I see nothing but darkness.
I numbly feel my way over to the chair in the corner where I know the light is. I feel so sick all of a sudden, so guilty and nauseous and for once, I want to be anywhere but here. When I reach the chair, I look around again, but there is no sign of Sebastian at all. I feel around for a bit before my hand finds the lamp. I fumble with switch until I am finally able to turn it on.
Light floods the room almost instantaneously. I look around for Sebastian, but no one is here. Shit. The bed is unmade, the usual diamond rose petals are gone. No music is playing and no wine is set out.
Sebastian is late.
And Sebastian is never let.
That was the final sign.
My heart begins pounding even faster. Where is Sebastian? I think frantically. He's always on time. Always. He'll be here, I tell myself. Maybe he just got caught in traffic. I don't really believe it, but I don't need anything else to worry about tonight, and so I leave it at that.
I'm tempted to leave right then and come back next week, but then I remember rule #3: don't leave the hotel room until morning. Not ever. And really, I'm not in a position to break another one of his rules. So I sigh, pour myself some red wine from the fridge, turn on some Beethoven music on the CD player Sebastian has set out, and I sink into the chair in the corner of the room, drinking and thinking and waiting.
I don't even know how long I sit there for, but I know it's at least an hour. I keep sipping at my wine, trying to let my body relax and make the nerves go away, but I can't. I'm wound too tight, and my heart doesn't slow its pounding for a second the whole time. I try instead to escape into my thoughts. I think about Sebastian, where he could possibly be, whether he's coming here or he just decided to abandon me. I think about the story he told me last week, about how he left everyone he ever cared about and even to this day, still hates himself for it. I think about the way his lips feel on mine, the way his touch makes my skin crawl, the tingling sensation his body gives me. I think about how Sebastian makes everything go away, makes all of the pain and the emptiness and the loneliness and the hurt fade. I think about us, our setup, and if we can ever really be together. I like how it is between us. I like this security, this guarantee. But I know, deep down, that I want more. I want to love Sebastian. I want to see the real him. I want… well, I want him.
Next I think about my parents. It's been two years since the robbery that got them killed, but it feels more like an eternity. The robber stole Mom's jewelry, the police said, and shot them both when they tried to stop him. A tragedy, according to the paper. An awful, awful tragedy.
As if they knew any of it.
Finally, my mind drifts back to Ash. I wonder whether I should call and tell her that Sebastian isn't here, to let her go home and sleep restfully while I spend my night here, staring at the door, like Sebastian would have wanted. Only break the rules if you absolutely have to, is his saying, and I don't really have to break them now. I am fine here, aren't I? Yes, I tell myself. Yes I am. I am fine.
I. am. fine.
So I take one last sip of wine and close my eyes as I sit in the chair, ready to let sleep take me away until morning. Sebastian will show up later, I tell myself as I close my eyes. He will.
That's when I hear the gunshot.
And the scream.
In that moment, what I hear isn't the kind of happy-scream you get when someone proposes, or during a tickle-fight of some sort, or anything, well, positive. This isn't the scream of a small child trying to get attention, either, or the scream of someone calling out to a friend.
No.
This scream is blood-curdling. Ear-splitting. Filled with pure fear. The second I hear it, my whole body freezes up. I shoot out of the chair, my heart hammering furiously in my chest.
The scream and gunshot are close, it's like they're coming from outside my room, and the realization is a punch in the gut. Oh shit shit shit, I think to myself, scrambling for cover. Everything pounds, freezes, hurts. I don't know what to do. What the fuck am I supposed to do in a situation like this? What do I do when there are gunshots and screams right outside my door? My feet go numb. My hands tremble. I take a slow step to the door, listening for the sound of footsteps fading, for any sign to tell me I'm safe, but nothing comes. Everything is silent for one long second, and then, just like that, all hell breaks loose.
There's a grunt, and someone is thrown against the wall beside my door. Another scream rips through the air. I swear my heart is about to explode out of my chest as the body collides with the wall, almost breaking through it, sending me jumping backward. I hear the crack of a fist connecting with skin, and then someone else is slammed against the wall, closer to the door this time. I jump back again. The fighting continues, and finally my sense start kicking in. I hear another crack as someone is thrown against the wall across the way while I race over to the corner of the room, ducking behind the bed for cover.
The next thing I know, another gunshot sounds, piercing through the night air. I hear another scream, and then the sound of sobbing. And then, once again, there is nothing.
I cower there, under the bed, totally frozen. I feel numb. My whole body screams at me that I'm going to fucking die here because someone is killing people right outside my door, but I try to ignore it, to try to stay calm, try to focus on my breathing.
Then, through the silence, there's the crunch of a single footstep, stopping directly in front of my door.
My whole body shakes at that, and I hold my breath, tensing up. The killer is here. Whoever pulled that trigger is about to come inside my room.
But I don't dare move, or breathe, or do anything to give myself away. So I just crouch there, stock-still, waiting for whoever to leave. I hold my breath as I hear another footstep, drawing closer still. The person pauses, and I hear sobbing from someone out in the hallway. My heart hammers in my chest so hard I swear whoever is there can hear it, but I don't dare move as the sound of the footsteps stops.
Right.
In front of.
My door.
And then, to my absolute horror, the knob turns. I watch, frozen, trying not to cry, as it turns until it clicks, and then the door swings wide open.
The first thing I see is the man's boots: dark and placed right outside my door. Then, slowly, I lift my gaze up to his suit pants, then to his tux and black bowtie,
then to his square jaw, and then, finally, my gaze settles on those same, icy blue eyes I know all too well.
Sebastian gives me a small smile as he walks over to the bed. "Ready to begin, angel?" he says.
If my stomach could sink so low that it falls out of my body, mine just did. He keeps a gun trained on someone outside, looking between me and whoever it is. "Come here," he coos in his sing-song way, but I don't move. I'm rooted in the spot, shaking like crazy, the tears streaming down my face.
When I don't obey, the smile leaves his face and fury replaces it. Sebastian looks sinister, his nostrils flaring and lips curling into a smirk. "Out. Now," he yells, and points a second gun on me.
A sob racks through me, but I have no choice but to obey. I stand up and walk numbly over to him, trying to process what's going on, why Sebastian, my Sebastian, looks like he wants to kill me. My heart keeps on hammering and my blood chills and chills, and I can barely make out anything but the throbbing in my head. I feel my vision starting to fade out, feel the room disappear and everything else leaving me, but I force myself to focus, to take one step after another until, finally, I reach the door.
A pained smile spreads across Sebastian's lips. "Good, my angel," he coos once I reach him, stroking my hair for just a second. His eyes seem sad, though, almost apologetic, which catches me off guard. "Very good."
Then, he hands me a gun. A pistol, I think, but I don't have much experience with guns. I take it, my hands still shaking furiously. I don't understand why he's giving it to me, but I'm too scared and confused to question him. I look up to meet his gaze. He looks different than usual. His eyes are hard and fierce, and not in the same loving kind of way. They're angry, almost apologetic.
I swallow hard.
I hear a crash somewhere downstairs, then shouts, and then an earsplitting crack. A gunshot, I think. My legs go weak. Sebastian must hear it too, because he glances down the hall and then looks back at me, his face and voice suddenly urgent.
"Use this," he says, pointing at the gun he gave.
"For what?" I choke out. I have to force myself to continue breathing. I look at the gun, then him, then back at my feet.
The sounds of people running are approaching. I pray with every fiber of my being that they're cops, but I don't even know anymore. I don't know what's going on. I don't know why the man I thought I trusted just possibly killed someone, and is now looking like he wants to do the same to me.
Sebastian grabs my arm and shoves me out into the hall. He points at a girl lying limply on the other side of the hall, blood pouring out of a gunshot wound in her leg. Time seems to slow as my gaze settles on the face.
It's Ash.
The bleeding girl is Ash.
A scream escapes me, and I thrash and try to run toward her but Sebastian holds me back, his grip like iron. My headache grows and I feel sick, so sick, and then everything but the shallow beating of my heart seems to fade away.
Distantly, I hear Sebastian yell, "Protect her, angel. Men are after us. Bad men. I don't have the resources to bring your friend with us." Out of nowhere, I'm struck by how full of genuine care his voice sounds, but the thought is gone as quickly as it comes.
Shouts fill the air as several armed men race upstairs, clicking of their safeties. Everything blurs. This whole thing is like a nightmare, and I don't know what to do but stand and shake and stare at Ash while Sebastian moves to the end of the hallway, his gun locked and loaded. "One of the men shot her," I hear him say. "I killed him but she's really banged up. Save her, angel. If these men get her they will give her something worse than death."
My head spins, and my stomach is so queasy and my muscles so rigid that none of this even feels real anymore. I try to focus on holding up the gun, but I can't even think straight anymore. I feel my mind fading in and out, like my eyes are a camera zooming and unzooming back and forth and back and forth. I just watch Sebastian, watch as he flattens himself against the hall and points his gun at the stairwell, takes a shot at the oncoming me, then steps back and stares at me urgently. His eyes burn into mine for one, single second that feels like an eternity. They are so full of something, something deep and dark and hurt, and it looks like he wants to say a million things to me, but nothing comes out.
Sebastian doesn't say a word. He just stares at me so intensely I swear it bores a hole into my skin, but his lips don't move. It's like his eyes are apologizing, like he's telling me he already regrets whatever is about to happen, and the thought makes my stomach twist.
Then, just like that, he grunts and looks away. I gasp for air immediately, because his gaze was so intense I realize I forgot to breathe.
Sebastian steps out from the cover of the hallway and takes several shots down at the men coming up the stairs, whoever they are. I hear another scream, then the thud of someone falling.
Desperately, I clutch the gun in my hand and stare back down at Ash, my hands shaking wildly. Ash's eyes are wild and crazed, and she lies there, so limply, the blood rushing out of her body. I see her long blonde hair, the mascara running down her eyes, and the crimson staining her pale skin. I see the fear in her eyes, the way she feels life slipping away from her, and the pain of the thought is almost unbearable.
I crouch down beside her as Sebastian continues to shoot at the oncoming men, tears pouring down my face. I look at my gun, which I'm holding at the space by the top of the stairs. The safety is off. I know enough about guns to tell. I know how to shoot them too. When I was considering suicide, I taught myself all about them, how they work, but guns always felt too messy. Felt wrong. And they still do.
"It's going to be okay," I whisper to her, but my body is shaking so hard that my voice cracks, and I don't believe my own words for a second.
I don't understand what's going on.
I don't understand why Sebastian is shooting people right before my eyes.
And I don't understand why these men want to kill us.
My hand is shaking like mad as I hold the trigger. I hear more people running up the stairs, the barking of orders and sounds of guns being loaded. I know I don't have much time. I know they're almost here.
"They're coming, angel!" Sebastian roars back at me, and his bloodshot eyes meet mine for a single instant. Fear pulses through me as more gunshots go off, and he screams, "We have to go!"
I don’t move, though. My body is shaking so hard and I just keep staring at Ash. Everything starts to fade out, and I'm absolutely paralyzed, unable to move.
"RUN!" he screams again, taking one last shot at the oncoming men.
But I can't. I can't move. My feet are absolutely rooted in the spot. I clench the gun so hard I swear I'm going to break my hands, and so many tears rush down my face at once that my whole cheek stings. My vision blurs, but distantly I see Sebastian running over to me, screaming something I can't make out, and I feel myself reaching out to Ash, trying to grab her arm and hold tight to her, but my hand misses.
Before I know what's happening, Sebastian is behind me, putting something dark over my head and shoving a needle into the back of my neck.
"I won't let them have you," I swear I hear him whisper, but my ears are ringing so hard now that I can't be too sure.
Everything is dizzy as I slump back into his arms, feeling sick and bleak and empty. Distantly, I feel his arms wrapping around me, his grunts as he drags me somewhere far away. The last thing I remember is the sound of the Beethoven music I put on in room 364, drifting out into the hallway.
And then all I see is blackness.
Chapter Four
I drift in and out of consciousness for hours after that. Or days. Or maybe even weeks. I don't know how long. All I remember is waking up face down in a seat of some sort a while after Sebastian knocked me unconscious. It felt like there was something moving beneath me, as if I were a car, but I can't be too sure. I could see nothing but blurry sunlight for a few seconds that felt like an eternity, and then I was gone, back in a memory.
I'm tw
enty years old again, running down my old street in the pouring rain. I'd been at a friend's house all day, but her mom told me something had happened, that I needed to go home now, and I refused to let her drive me because I knew whatever it was, it was bad. And before I realized what I was doing, I'd started running.
I run and run, already crying and choking and gasping for air, already wanting to crumple and let everything else leave me, already knowing something is terribly, terribly wrong.
I can hear the sirens wailing through our once silent neighborhood, the buzz of energy and fear and sadness in the air. It's the dead of night, but everyone is standing outside of their houses, hugging and looking at the house the cars are crowding. My heart sinks.
They're staring at my house. The house I'd been staying in ever since I failed out college.
Ten cop cars surround my front yard, and policemen fill the area, bringing evidence and equipment in and out of the house, talking into their radios and putting up yellow tape all around my home.
I keep running. I don't even hesitate. Tears burn my eyes and my heart pounds furiously, but I try to hide it, try to stay hopeful, even though a deep, crushing part of me knows it's really over.
"Ma'am, this is a crime scene," a pudgy cop says when I duck under the yellow tape, forcing my way over to my house. "You can't--"
But I'm already pushing past him, muttering, "I live here" in between my fits of trembles, and then I hustle inside the house, pushing past a few cops, and look around desperately.
The house is a mess. Furniture is upturned everywhere--couches, chairs, tables. Shattered glass is spilled across the floor, and torn-up pictures of me and my parents laughing and smiling several years ago litter the ground like they're nothing. And then I notice the drop of crimson on the hardwood floor in front of me, and I look up. I let out a scream as soon as see my parents, on the ground, shot and killed beside the sofa, their hands locked.
Together.