The Hotel Cortez - Do Not Disturb

ᴄʜᴀᴘᴛᴇʀ 8

(sʜɪᴛs ᴀʙᴏᴜᴛ ᴛᴏ ɢᴇᴛ ʀᴇᴀʟ)

My heart stopped in my throat as I reached up to knock on the door of room 77. There was no going back now. No redemption. I had to face this and I had to face it now.

The door creaked open to reveal the maid from earlier, she looked me up and down before hurriedly gesturing for me to enter.
Sat at the table before me was he himself. The man that kept this hotel in fear, the man I'd seen only a few times before. Once, being when I read about his death... Nearly a century ago.
"Ah, Miss Harmon, so glad you could join me" He smiled like a gentleman. One would never have guessed that he was a dead serial killer. I smiled in return and walked over.
Were all deceased psychopaths this charming?

Before I knew it, March was pulling out a seat for me and I, being the fool I am, gladly accepted and sat down. I had so many questions I didn't even know where to begin. Him, sitting opposite me, prepared to tell me everything, it was hugely intimidating. But I wasn't going to back down.

"How are your ribs healing?" He asked with another sincere smile.

"How did you...?" I sat out, as if unable to keep my mouth shut.

"I know a lot of things that you are not aware of, darling"

In that moment I felt wholely shocked and petrified. I didn't even know what to say, what to think. My head was aching, my body shaking, I felt like I was falling apart at the seems.

I knocked back my glass of wine and sat there sheepishly. I should be standing tall and confident right now, I was finally getting what I wanted... But this did not feel like something I wanted at all. This was terrifying.

"Are you a ghost?" I let out in almost a whisper. I couldn't even believe it was possible.
"I have a better question, what are you?" He retorted.
"I'm a witch." I blurted out. Fucking hell, Bella! Keep your mouth shut!

His face contorted into a smirk as he watched me. I felt nervous, so very nervous. What was I supposed to do?

"Belladonna, that is a beautiful name,  you know?"

"I never said my name." I spoke dryly.

"Not tonight, you haven't."

At first I was confused but broken memories began to fill my mind. Sharp shards of glass, pushed themselves into my brain. Things I hadn't even remembered.

"Do you enjoy killing people?"
"It's a rush. A feeling I can't get from anywhere else. So, yes, I suppose I do." I grinned.

Memories of knives and blood, filled my head. I remembered getting hit in the stomach by one of my so called victims. How was it even possible that this was me?
I was angry, emotional, entirely piloted by rage. I wasn't this cold, calculating person that I seemed to be recalling.
I began to remember injuring my leg, how I fell down a flight of stairs. I remembered my dream. It was all real. All of it.
"Why can I not leave this hotel?" I spoke sternly, trying to hide my terror from the man who seemed to be turning me into a serial killer. Much like I presume he did to John Lowe and God knows who else. "I'm not dead, am I?" I questioned more fearfully this time.
James walked over to me. I wanted to just sink into the ground and disappear at this point.
"No dear, you aren't dead." He spoke, brushing away a tear I had no idea I'd let out.

"I-I think I should go..." I spoke, scared of even my own voice.
"Goodbye, darling. You know where to find me." He replied, kissing my hand before I scurried out the door.
Cold sweats ran over my body as I heaved for air. The hallways seemed to go on and on endlessly. Part of me wished I could just go and hug Liz or cry to Iris, the other just wanted to curl up into a secluded ball.
What had I done?
What had I become?
I ran to the elevator, pushing the button to my floor as more and more memories seeped into my head.
I couldn't take this anymore.
I wish I'd never asked.

The elevator doors creaked open and I stormed into room 64, falling on my bed.
My bed... And yet it didn't feel like it belonged to me at all. Nothing did anymore. Not even my own sanity. I curled up on the bed, hugging my knees close to me.
My memories were coming back in waves. I remembered passionate lips against my own, I remembered cheers and celebration after my first kill, I remembered injuries...

I remembered blood.
I remembered excitement.
I remembered lust.
I remembered death.

I stumbled over to the bathroom, turning on my shower.
Slowly, I slipped out of my long black dress and watched it fall to the ground.
I took off everything else and stepped into the shower hoping the water would wash it all away.
It didn't.
When it was done, I dried off and went back to the bed, wrapping myself into the warm sheets.

What have I done?

My eyes closed, my cheeks pressed against the cold pillows.
I didn't even know who I was anymore.

"Death is only the beginning."
Was the last thought that echoed through my head before I drifted into a long dreamless sleep.
My only thoughts being of him.
James Patrick March.