‘‘Meet me at the abandoned hotel near your little place. Come alone and come now. Or she dies.’’
I don’t think twice before tossing the phone aside and pulling out my coat. Arlo’s still in the shower, the sound of water running filling my ears. I’m fucking terrified something will happen to Noelle, and I have no time to waste.
So, I rush toward Arlo’s coat and take both of the guns I find with me.
THIRTY-FOUR
The mud squeaks underneath the white sneakers, and they’re no longer white. My body starts shivering under the harsh wind, but I pay no mind to it. My only goal is to fucking find who’s behind the message and the video, although I have a pretty good idea who it might be.
It’s two or more people. The hospital is an hour away from the abandoned hotel they requested me to go to, and I highly doubt they’d send a video that’s old, since we would’ve found out about someone being in Noelle’s room by this point.
With a deep breath, I steel myself when I approach the hotel, stopping in my tracks to observe the eerie scene. The snow’s started to melt, and beneath is left dirty grass, some mud, and thetrash that was scattered all around long ago.
The windows are broken, the door’s missing, and it doesn’t seem like anyone’s inside. The walls are filled with old graffiti, chalk drawings, and even burn marks.
The trip here was rather short. I left the building, took the first taxi I spotted, and had them drop me off a corner away from the hotel. I researched online anything I could about this place, but aside from the fact that it’s been abandoned for years and is set to be demolished early next year, there’s nothing particular I could use.
I tried looking for the building’s outlines so I’d know where to go and find my way around. Unfortunately, there was nothing helpful, and I’m going into this whole thing blind. Right now, I’m starting to immensely regret that I didn’t tell Arlo I’d be gone.
The feeling of unease bubbles inside of me, and I take a deep intake of breath, my hand curling around one of the guns. It’s tucked in the pocket of my coat, the only means to protect myself if it comes down to that.
And somehow, I have a feeling it will get to that.
My feet start carrying me toward the entrance almost involuntarily. The closer I’m getting to the hotel, the further I’m getting from the main road, and that makes shivers dance all over my body. I have to remind myself to be on alert at all times, because this time, Arlo’s not here. He won’t be able to protect me from harm.
Stupid, stupid, stupid.
Why did I have to run off like that again? It’s my fault, really. Sometimes, I need to start thinking before I act. Though, dwelling on my irresponsible, reckless nature won’t get me out of this situation.
With difficulty, I shove all the thoughts of doubt to the back of my mind. My hair’s still wet from the shower, and I canpractically feel the stiffness of my neck tomorrow. If I’m even able to move it, that is.
I swallow a knot that forms in my throat when I take the first step inside. It’s too dark, and the street light isn’t reaching it. Quickly, I whip out my phone and turn the flashlight on, trying to see where I’m going.
It looks like an abandoned hotel would look. A receptionist desk, with a big hotel name above. It’s cracked in the middle, and one letter’s missing. The entire place is filled with cobwebs, dust, and dirt. Old newspapers scattered on the floor, and not a single piece of furniture around.
The coldness from the outside comes in a harsh blow, my back straightening, goosebumps appearing all over my skin.
“Alright,” I mutter into my chin. “Not the basement. Never the basement.”
I make my way toward the grand staircase that leads me up, and the first floor is just many, many rooms. There’s not enough time for me to search through every one, especially since there are another four floors I need to go through.
The red carpet under my feet stretches on, seemingly into a hallway that’s too long. My hand trembles while I hold the flashlight, the other one firmly holding the gun. I’m ready to use it, and I don’t care who I have to shoot.
The floor creaks somewhere in the distance, and I halt. I keep my breathing to a minimum, perking my ears, and doing my best to pinpoint the exact location of the footsteps.
It leads me to the third floor, which has a different outline than the rest of the hotel. It has a small living room area, too, with an old, dusty, torn couch and a small coffee table in the middle.
And there’s a person.
The back’s turned to me as they look out the window — or the lack thereof — and stare off into the distance. My hand lowers the flashlight when I see that there are two small lamps on the wallthat are working well.
“Took you long enough.” The person turns around, revealing none other than Amy Marshall.
I’m baffled for a moment.
I’ve seen images of her; hell, I’ve even seen the video of her running away, but nothing could’ve prepared me for the striking resemblance between us. We could pass off as twins, or worse — the same fucking person.
Her hair is the same, her eyes are the same, and I can’t be objective and see any differences given how shocked I am. I didn’t think we’d look so much alike. It’s freaky as hell.
