Losing Hope | {BOOK 4}

21| 13-Year-Old Ellie

Tina and I had moved from the bar to a table, both extremely drunk as a waitress brought over two more shots to add to the growing collection of empty cups littered in front of us.

"There you go," she told us.

"How do you know about the Royale Motel in Scranton?" Tina laughed.

"Me and my dad- we got snowed in there for a week," I smiled at the memory.

It was one of the few times he took time off from the shop to give me a real vacation.

"Well, I was there for three months after my father drank all our money away. Lived on white rice and Tic Tacs until they kicked us out. Good times."

We both chuckled, throwing back our new shots. Just then, my phone rang in my pocket.

"Oh," I grimaced. "Oh. Sorry."

I fished for my phone as Tina stood from the table.

"I should go," she said as I finally got the phone out, seeing Dean's name flashing on my screen. "It's getting late."

"You gonna be okay?" I asked her.

"Always am," she saluted, smiling.

I watched her leave as I answered the call.

"How we looking?"

"Not great," Dean replied. "Turns out J.P. was about three days from getting evicted."

"His landlord said the guy blasted Neil Diamond 24/7," Sam chimed in.

Tina was giving the bartender a hug goodbye, and I narrowed my eyes as Sam continued.

"And that his bathroom was, 'like staring into the Devil's butt'."

"That's vivid," I chuckled.

"And accurate," Dean said. "We saw it."

"You saw the John, or, uh-"

"Don't," Dean growled.

I smiled, the alcohol in my system making me feel all warm and fuzzy.

"So, you got anything?" Dean asked me.

"Yeah. I got, uh, jack with two scoops of squat," I sighed as Tina walked out. "I don't know, guys. I think we ought to just call it a night, and, uh-"

I cut myself off as a large, mysterious man walked out right after Tina.

"And what?" Sam asked. "Ellie? Hello?"

"Guys, I think I got something," I said, hanging up.

I hurried out of the bar, following the same path as Tina and the man. As I walked, there was a scream and a flash of bright light. Pulling out my pistol, I rushed over to where a smoking pile of clothes sat next to the dumpster. As I examined them, I felt a presence come up behind me. Turning, my eyes widened as the mystery man grabbed a hex bag around his neck and the bright light flashed once more.

When I opened my eyes, I groaned, looking around. I had somehow been transported to a dark room with a concrete floor and bars on the window.

"What the hell?" I muttered.

I tried opening the door, but it was locked. Moving over to the window, I attempted to pull on the bars to no avail. I stopped, noticing my hands looked different than usual and quickly turned to a dusty mirror. After wiping the dust off with my shirt, I was able to make out my reflection. I still looked like me, but me when I was maybe 13.

"Son of a bitch," I swore quietly.

I sighed, continuing to examine myself in the mirror.

"Seriously?"