Suicide Room 2 Novels & Stories

Logan must've told him about me, but showing my pictures seemed a little bit overboard. Imagining them rating my looks caused me to scrunch my face in disgust. “How is Susan?” I asked, trying to act calm. “She’s asleep.” He replied. “What ward is she in?” “She's in Room D42 on the top floor.” Smiling. “Thank you.” Then I walked past him. Reaching the room, I pushed the door open and stepped inside to see mom and dad seated on the couch while Susan, who had a drip fixed on her hand, was fast asleep.

I almost get away with it, but when I get caught, I get swatted. We walk the halls in search of our rooms. Sadly they aren't even near each other. Lyra and Eden rave about their poolside suite on the first floor before I take the elevator to the second. Room 243 is a basic room with two queen beds and a window that overlooks the parking lot. Thanks dad. I’m not in my room long before my phone pings with a text. Lyra demands I come to their room and get ready to hang out by the pool. With a quick reply of ‘whatever’ typed back, I take my sweet time abiding to her demand.

They can get more useful information from him later. The two used the stairs and went straight to the second floor, based on the room numbers. The main alley on the second floor was empty. Unlike on the preceding floor where some half-naked women were smoking on the hallways giving them a wink. Seeing that, Damon’s anger escalated. How could Mrs. Keevahbring Harper on such place? This isn’t the right place to bring a pregnant woman into. What was she thinking? Room 21. Room 22. Room 23.

As soon as I stepped inside the room. I could see why Sasha begged me to be quiet. I had never seen anything as horrifying. The room was a lab of sorts, not very different from the morgue-like room I had been whisked away to before, except it was narrow and thin, curving slightly as it turned around the bend. In the center of the room were beds lined up about 6 feet apart, and on each bed was a child, woman, or man. Some looked like they were sleeping peacefully, others lay quietly, their faces twisted in pain.

But smiling. Then Maras fell on the well. The water was calm. But a face appeared on the surface for a fraction of a second. Not the nameless child. Lena. She looked at Mara. And a word without saying: bottom Then the picture was gone. Mara died. “It is not in room 214.” Jonas stopped. “What?” Mara looked at the keychain. On the trailer stood room 214. But Lena said downstairs. Suddenly she understood. Room 214 was the real patient.

Sharon was proving a useful ally, but he knew better than to trust her too much. There was always another agenda with women like Sharon. The elevator dinged, the doors slid open, and he found himself in a plush, carpeted hallway. Leo stepped out; his polished shoes made no sound on the thick carpet. He found Room 1408 at the far end, its door slightly ajar. Leo's brow furrowed, but he didn't hesitate. He pushed the door open and stepped inside. The room was not well-lit; the soft light from a single lamp cast long shadows on the walls.

Every single time I get intimate with my boyfriend, Lyle Holloway, I notice he always changes the bedsheets afterward. After a frenzied release, I can't help but ask him about it. Lyle gently twirls a strand of my hair around his finger and smiles tenderly. "Of course it's because your best friend sweats buckets. Every time before I do it with you, she gets jealous and insists on going first. Ever since I met her, I've realized that women really are made of water." His response catches me off guard, and I stare at him in utter disbelief. "What did you just say?" He stubs out his cigarette, a half-smile playing on his lips. "Grace, your mom was tortured to death in bed by your dad, not by

it's called the black house. I reached the last floor and the door opened. So here we have 3 rooms. 1st room is called the white room, I don't usually kill people in there. It's where we get to have conversations and if you comply well and agree to our conditions or confess, we'll let you go. The second room is the red room, things get really bloody in there. I just basically kill you on the spot if I see no usefulness in you. Then the black room, that's the room of severe and intense torture.

I threw on my coat and stormed out, remembering the text that Hermione had sent me earlier—Ziton Hotel, Room 1802. I sped to the hotel, running several red lights, and made my way to Room 1802. I slid a bank card into the doorframe, pushing it hard until the lock clicked open. Room 1802 was a suite. Trembling, I stepped into the living room. From the bedroom, I could hear familiar laughter and heavy breathing. I knew, instinctively, that I would not like what I saw in there. Quietly, I pushed the door ajar and peered through the crack.

"My parents and my sister, Lyla." He turned back to her after nodding and taking another look at the picture. "So, the room?" Hyper aware of his presence behind her, Grace guided him down the corridor. She said, "It's not very large," and opened the second bedroom door. "But it gets good light in the morning." Max entered and looked around the deserted room. With the exception of the dust bunnies beneath the bed and an enigmatic stain on the carpet that Grace had spent hours cleaning, Megan had taken everything.