Motel From Hell

Motel Showers

Clothes are scattered everywhere on the beige carpeted floor, and steam floats into the dim motel room. Completely naked I limp into the small bathroom, only to stop dead in my tracks.

The bathroom is gross, and extremely grimy. The original white title floor has yellowed, and is chipped. The painted blue walls are cracked, and have suspicious, and disgusting stains on them. Is that dried blood? The toilet seat is up, and the has dozens of gross stains, just like the shower, and dingy little sink.

Gross... I'm not walking barefoot in this room. I throw down some towels, and limp across to the running shower. I push away the shower curtain only to reel back, ew! Its so sticky! How is it possible that the outdoors is cleaner than inside? I take a deep breath, shut my eyes, and dive into the shower.

Warm water cascades on my dirty skin, and soothes my sore muscles. I let out the breath I've been holding, it turning into a sigh of relief. I pull my head away from the stream of water, then tense.

"AHHHHHHHHH!!!!!" I scream at the top of my lungs. Blood! There's blood on the shower curtain!

MOteL fRoM HelL is crudely written in blood across the shower curtain! I scream again, my voice cracking at the end. I crash hard against the shower wall, letting out another scream. Suddenly, the shower curtain is ripped aside, and Chester is rushing at me.

"What's wrong?!" He yells, wrapping a towel around me, getting drenched by the shower himself. Through the towel I can feel Chester's arms tightening around me as he hoists me out. I helplessly shake in Chester's arms, his soaking wet clothes sticking to my wet skin.

"Blake!" Chester lowers me on the bed, like earlier. His hands try to knots the towel at my collar bone so it doesn't fall, but his fingers keep fumbling as he stares me down.

"What the hell happened?!" He demands, his hands on my shoulders.

"B-blood," I force out. "There's a lot of blood. There is something written out in a lot of blood." I say.

"What happened in this room? Why is there so much blood? Where- no, who did it all come from?" I ask, the shock wearing off, and the real fear setting in. Holy shit, is there a dead body under the bed or something?! What if there's a murder killing guests in their hotel room?!

"Damn it, I forgot to clean the bathroom..." He sighs in annoyance, making my blood run cold. A harsh theory starts to set in; the cute motel owner could be a murder.

... Is he the one killing guests?! Is this some freaky Norman Bates shit?!

"What?" I ask quietly, my throat swelling up.

"Last week a man killed himself in here. I cleaned the room, but I didn't think he did anything to the bathroom. I always forget to clean the bathroom." Chester explains, his brow furrowing up in stress. I stare up at him in disbelief. I don't know what's worse, a homicide or a suicide. Goosebumps prickle my skin, my hands start to shake. All I can picture in my mind is the poor human being who ended his own life somewhere in this room.

"You were going to let me stay in a room where someone killed themself?" I ask in horror. "And who the hell forgets to clean a bathroom?!" I add.

"Cleaning was never my forte." Chester says. "But yes, I would have let you stayed in here because every room has had a suicide, and a murder." My heart stops dead in fear in my chest.

"Every room?" I choke, dreading his stiff nod. "And a murder?" I ask, and he nods again. Realization hits me like a truck, and I jump off the bed like I've been struck by lightning, making Chester flinch.

"Holy shit, where in this room has someone died?" I ask. I hurriedly gathering up my clothes off the floor. Stuffing them panically into my backpack they refuse to fit, but I'm to frighten to care. I nearly fall over as I urgently grab my shoes, and bolt for the door.

"Wait," Chester calls after me. "What are you doing?" He asks, watching me frantically try to open the door with shaky hands.

"Trying to get out!" I say. The lock suddenly lifts, and I freeze, the door was locked... and Chester was just suddenly here in the blink of an eye... How did he get up here so fast from the main lobby... Which is an entirely different building. And if he did get up here so fast, why would he lock the door behind him while I'm screaming bloody murder?

"The door was locked..." I mumble, feeling my spine tingle with pure terror. Turning around to him to ensure I don't miss one move, I tightly wrap my arms around me, trying to cover as much of exposed skin possible. This towel suddenly feels paper thin, what I wouldn't give for clothes, and a wall between us.

"You're not leaving," Chester says, and with a flick of his wrist the lock twists by itself, heavily snapping shut. What the hell?!

"First off, calm down please," Chester says, sitting down on the bed.

"Second, I wasn't in here creeping on you, I did come from my office." Chester states. How the hell is he answering my unspoken questions in my head?!

"Third, I'm a demon from hell, who can read minds, move things with my mind," he starts, then suddenly vanishes. "And teleport." Chester suddenly whispers in my ear from right behind me.

"Holy shit!" I scream, practically jumping out of my skin, and fall to the ground at his feet.

"Now," he says, bending down, and pushing aside my damp hair. "You're going to calm down, and finish taking a shower in my room. And I promise you, there isn't any blood message on the shower curtain."