5

Blue

I step into the hotel, my mind set on a room number, the last time I was here, I was finger-fucked in the restroom, I would take that any day than what I am about to do.

Entering into the elevator, tears streaming down my cheeks but I immediately wipe it away. This wasn’t a time to cry, I hate my life and I get it but I don’t deserve to cry. I lost that chance years ago.

I stand in front of a room, my brain reading the number of the room again and again, I know I am in the right place but all I feel is loss. Most people have two choices, go back or step inside. I on the other hand have only one, I can’t even think of going back because I will be met with the same choice over and over and over again.

I push open the door, my head hanging low to the ground.

I take off my coat, the heavy fur slipping from my shoulders as I hang it on the rack by the door. The cold air in the room immediately hits my exposed skin, causing me to erect my posture. The chill in the room isn’t the only thing unsettling me—the room is quiet, far too still for a place that’s supposed to be occupied by four men. A thought crosses my mind: will they take turns?

With each step I take, the unease grows. Half of the bed comes into view, its sheets crisp and undisturbed, and I realize how close I am to the point of no return. But just as I’m about to move closer, I hear it—the faint sound of water running from the door to my left. The shower. My heart skips a beat, my legs instinctively snapping shut as a wave of dread washes over me.

I force myself to take a deep breath, I can’t afford to fall apart now. Not when I’m this close. With a shaky exhale, I take another step forward, nervousness washing all over me.

Then the door swings open.

The sudden movement startles me, and I freeze in place, my eyes widening in shock as I catch sight of him.

The ghost mask with the crack in the middle,

It’s him. His green eyes lock onto mine, and in that instant, everything I’d prepared myself for, every terrible scenario that had played out in my mind, shatters into a million pieces.

A man I thought I would never see again, a thing of my nightmares. He stands before me, real and existent as the cold air grazing upon my skin. My breath catches hard in my throat, my heart pounding so hard I can hear it in my ears. The room seems to shrink around us, the walls closing in as I try to process what’s happening, what it means that he’s here, in this room, with me.

I don’t know whether to feel relief or terror. All I know is that nothing could have prepared me for this moment, and now, I’m left to face him once again, unsure of what will happen next.

I froze in my tracks as he takes my body in whole, scanning me from head to toe. He doesn’t move, I can see the hunger in his eyes from when they darken. I suddenly feel the need to use the bathroom, my hands are itchy and sweaty. His eyes meet mine as he tilt his head to the side.

“Hello Little Angel” the name imprints on my mind and I know he is the one. I can never forget his voice, it's the darkest thing that clouds my mind.

I take a step back, not a care in the world about the four men in the room. He is the one I am supposed to get away from. I don’t care how pissed Mike will be about his clients, my instincts scream at me to run away.

No, I shake my head moving backwards.

He doesn’t move, just watches me. My gaze capture the knife in his hand, water dripping from it.

I am so close to the door when he races towards me, my body is slammed to the wall, my face pressed to it. I can feel his groin up against my ass.

“You can’t leave now, I have something for you to see,” he says. His fingers wrap around my jaw with a possessive grip, tilting my head slightly so I have no choice but to meet his gaze. The other hand settles firmly on my shoulder, guiding me forward with no room for resistance. My feet move on their own, one step after another, until I find myself standing in the center of the room.

The moment I look up, the breath is stolen from my lungs. What I see in front of me terrifies me to the bone, injecting ice into my veins. My eyes widen in horror as the scene unfolds—a twisted backdrop that feels more like a dream than reality.

There, in the dim light of the room, are the four men, but they are not as I had imagined. They’re not standing, not even moving. Their bodies are slumped in various positions around the room, lifeless and pale, their eyes vacant and staring at nothing. Blood pools beneath them, the rich, dark red stark against the cold floor, soaking into the expensive carpet.

They are dead.

They are all dead.

I try to breathe, but the air is thick with the scent of iron, and my chest tightens in response. My mind struggles to comprehend the gruesome sight, the reality of what has just happened here.

He doesn’t release his hold on me, his fingers still firm on my jaw, forcing me to confront the scene before me. The terror grips me, squeezing my heart until I think I might collapse from the intensity of it.

“Look at them,” he charges, forcing my eyes to open.

“It’s my gift to you,” he whispers, his voice slithering into my ear like a serpent, coiling around my mind and sinking its fangs deep into my soul. Every instinct within me screams to get away, to run as far as I can from him. I try to scream, to let out the terror that’s clawing at my throat, but my tongue feels heavy, like it’s been shoved so far back that it’s choked off any sound. All I can manage is a small, pitiful whimper—a fragile sound that barely escapes my lips before it’s swallowed by the silence of the room.

A man sits on the couch, his hands spread out like he is relaxed but not just that, his neck is sliced open and blood keeps gushing out of it.

Another man lays on the bed, naked from his pants down, his cock is absent, his hands and legs are tied to the ends of the bed and a knife is stuck into his heart.

The next man leans on the wall, his eyes socket are empty as they bleed out from the hole, his stomach is opened up and his intestines fall out of the open space.

I feel the need to vomit at the sight in front of me, I can’t breathe properly. I can feel his hand loose on me and I rush towards the bathroom when I catch sight of the last man.

He is naked and covered in a pool of his own blood while in the bathtub, his head sits on the edge of the tub close to the wall while his naked body lays in the tub.

I rush back pushing the door open when I fall into him, he grabs my hand and pins my body to the wall.The impact knocks the air out of my lungs, leaving me gasping and struggling to breathe. My chest constricts as if the walls are closing in on me, and the only thing keeping me from collapsing to the ground is his hold on me.

My legs are weak, trembling beneath me. I don’t know if it’s the shock of what I’ve just witnessed or the drug Mike injected into my neck finally taking its toll, but I feel my strength slipping away. This is the worst possible moment for the drug to take effect, the timing cruel and merciless.

The room feels like it’s spinning, my vision narrowing as the effects of the drug blur my senses. I can barely keep myself upright, my body leaning into him for support even as my mind rebels against the contact. Every nerve in my body screams for escape, but I’m powerless, pinned by the weight of his hands and the numbing effects of the drug.

Unable to catch my breathing, unable to move, unable to run.

My body feels light, hanging loosely in the air.