I eye my dried, pissed-soaked boxers with chagrin. Kane bumps his shoulder into mine. “It’s okay. I’ve got a hoodie in the car. And it’s dark out right now.” I nod my acceptance and turn away as we’re ushered out of Mayhem.
Once the cool air stings my skin, I suck in a pleading, whimpering breath. It seems the others do the same because we all stop and shiver, staring up at the cloud-covered sky, making the inky darkness feel denser and heavier as it settles upon us like a weighted blanket.
A suffocating blanket made of coal and ashes. Of hell and devilry.
I peer over my shoulder, eyeing the darkened, decrepit motel with equal parts disdain, misery, and curiosity. The inside is nothing like I’d imagined. The layout, the…people.
The outside, though, is every bit the abandoned motel one would imagine. Shuttered windows, peeling paint, weathered wood. All wrapped in a bow of horror.
With a shiver, I right my gaze back down to the gravel, head hanging heavily between my shoulders. Kane limps on his one bare foot as we shuffle across the gravel parking lot back to the Pontiac that’s a beacon of sanity we all desperately need.
We settle in our seats, each of us disturbingly quiet.
We’re all alone. And we feel every second of it.
The chug of the engine and the vibration rumbling through the car as it starts does nothing to quell my unease. Even the crack of rocks beneath the tires as Collin pulls out of the parking spot doesn’t help.
Kane hands me his hoodie without a word, and I silently pull it on, wrapping both ends completely around my midsection, not even bothering with the zipper. Keeping one arm around my midsection, strangely because it feels like I needsomethingagainst me to keep me together, I drag my phone out of the compartment in the door, powering it on.
With a quick glance around the cab, I notice everyone else is already on theirs, screens dimly lit in the shadowy darkness.
Collin’s eyes are strained on the road, headlights curving on the blacktop as he turns out of Mayhem Motel’s parking lot and onto the highway. My head cranks, vying for one last glance at the broken, neon motel sign, then at the front door I willingly walked through.
A choice that I’m pretty sure changed me.
And maybe not for the better.
I feel wrecked, wholly and utterly drained. Like Static sucked every pulse of my life force from my veins—through my dick—leaving me in nothing but this useless skin suit.
The air I pull in feels heavy, thick with something I can’t name, as we drive through Vitriol to jump back on the interstate.
Despondency. Regret.
Staggering pleasure and shocking acceptance.
My head thuds against the fogged-over glass, each breath pluming out increasing the uneven edge of the condensation against the glass. Just as my eyes fall shut, my phone vibrates in my hand.
I flip it over, peering at the dimmed screen with one eye cracked open.
A text message notification lines the screen. A photo.
I glance around the car, eyeing everyone warily, although I’m not sure why. Lenny’s slumped over against the opposite window, eyes closed and shoulders moving with even breaths. Kane’s crouched over his phone, thumb scrolling on the screen.
Collin’s staring out the windshield, thumb tapping on the wheel to the beat of a song I think he said was by some band called Motionless In White. I’m pretty sure Brianne’s near sleep too, her arm unmoving from where it rests against Collin’s upper thigh.
The road stretching out in front of us is dark, the almost neon glow of the painted lines on the uneven asphalt the only break from the darkness. The occasional set of headlights pass, followed by the rush of wind whipping past, but that’s it.
The two-minute reminder makes my phone buzz again. I drop my attention back to my screen and type in the numbers of my passcode with a shaky hand.
A small, red number sits just to the right of the green message icon. My thumb hovers over it, trembling as my breath comes out in stuttered pants. My heart rocks against my ribs.
I accidentally graze the screen with the tip of my finger on a shudder.
My heart, still beating in time with the chaos consuming my lungs, shoots into my throat, pressing right against my uvula as I stare down with wide, burning eyes. At the face that will haunt every dream to come.
Static stares at me with those gleaming white irises. His hair is still spiked straight up, in a bit of disarray from my fingers…
I gulp.
