Page 55 of Paging Dr. Hart
The door closes with a rasp, and we finally release our breath.
We wait in the dark for over an hour, not wanting to use our cell phones for fear that the light might seep under the door frame and announce our location. It’s pitch black. I don’t know if the space we’re in is large or small. I don’t know what’s in there with us. In the darkness, my imagination runs wild. I picture giant rats with beady red eyes. I think about all the people who have died in this hotel, of natural or unnatural causes, and how their malevolent ghosts must haunt this place. Maybe there’s one next to me? Is that its clammy hand on the back of my neck or is it Shelly’s breath? My fear spirals higher and higher until I might go mad.
Shelly must be feeling the same because, without warning, she leans forward and pulls the hatch door open. A rush of cool air brushes the hair away from my face. She pushes past me to topple out of our hiding spot, landing on the pile of cardboard boxes below with a stifledhmph. Still scared, I poke my head through the opening and whisper down to her, “Are they gone?”
“Not sure. Hang on.” She cracks open the door to the hallway and peers out. “I don’t see anyone.”
I drop down and wince as my ankle twists underneath me. Gingerly, I rotate it to make sure I can still walk. Satisfied it’s just a slight sprain, I hobble over to Shelly. “How did you know we would be safe in this room?” While we were hiding, I’ve been trying to figure that out.
She whispers back, “I’ve explored this whole place when you weren’t withme. I noticed that hatch in the ceiling before, but I wasn’t sure we could get it open. I didn’t know where else to go.”
We pause, listening at the door. I inspect myself, noting that I’m a bedraggled mess. There’s a long, jagged red scrape across my belly, and dirt is embedded in my white angel outfit. Cobwebs cling to my hair.
After hearing only silence for ten long minutes, we cautiously venture into the hallway. We’re paralyzed like scared rabbits, looking left and right, searching for the Skull Man and his crew. Seeing no one, we slowly make our way back to the car. At every corner and in every shadow, I’m convinced the men will jump out at us and scream, “Gotcha!” but they never do. Scrambling into our car, we hit the door lock button immediately.
We’re mostly silent on the drive home. Shelly keeps checking her rearview mirror like she’s scared we’re being followed. Thankfully, no mysterious cars appear behind us. After dividing our money, Shelly watches from the car to make sure I safely get into Mr. Chen’s apartment before she drives away.
I quickly shower and change into my pajamas in the bathroom. A smear of antibiotic ointment over my scrape makes me hiss in pain. Trying not to disturb my mom, I slide under the covers of the bed we share in Mr. Chen’s old office.
Mom wakes up anyway. “Kitten? You okay?” Her voice is thick with sleep. A dry hand pats across the bed until it finds me. Feeling like a little kid, I move closer and rest my head on her bony shoulder. My mom runs long fingers through my hair, scalp to tip, over and over, like she used to do when I was young.
“I’m okay, Mama. Just glad to be home.”
45
Two nights later, we’re working the Strip when Rafe appears, his bulky frame vibrating with anger. I slink back, hiding partially behind Shelly, wondering what we did to make him so furious. Rafe’s eyes bore into mine as he approaches. A few feet away, that murderous gaze swings to Shelly.
“Who?” he asks darkly.
Even brave Shelly blanches, but then she straightens her shoulders. “Who what?” she goads, knowing exactly what he’s referring to.
I brace myself. Shelly’s temper is just as bad as his.
“Who touched you?” He all but roars.
She narrows her eyes at him as she snaps, “If I’d known you’d react this way, I wouldn’t have told you.”
Hoping to head off an argument, I step forward. “It was some guys, three of them. No one we recognized. They didn’t catch us.”
“Describe them,” he growls.
I do my best, limited by how dark it had been in the Starlight. The one person I can recall in frightening detail is Skull Man. His countenance is burned into my memory. The snarling curl of his lips. The sadistic gleam in his eyes. Just thinking about him makes my stomach lurch with fear.
Rafe nods once when I’m done. His voice tight like he’s battling to keep control, he asks, “Are you hurt?”
“No.” My hands involuntarily jump to my shirt, which covers the jagged cut spread over my entire stomach. It burns every time I move too quickly.
He tracks the movement. “Bullshit.” He steps into my space and yanksmy shirt up, exposing the wound. When he sees it, his jaw clenches so hard that I think he might crack a tooth.
He lets my shirt fall. With two short steps, he’s in front of Shelly. Rafe takes her jaw in his hand, pinches her chin, and turns it side to side. “What about you? You hurt?”
“No!” Shelly jerks her head out of his reach and angrily shoves his arm away. “Stop grabbing at me.”
He looks between us, pinning each of us with a hard stare, his eyes cold and merciless. “No one threatens you ever again. Neither of you. Do you hear me? Anyone who touches you is a dead man.” His mouth curves into a grim smile, the edges sharp as a knife. “It won’t be a quick death, either.”
Rafe steps back, narrows his eyes, and jabs his finger at us one at a time. “You don’t step a foot off the Strip without me. No more. I’ll walk you to the car each night.”
Shelly opens her mouth like she’s going to argue, but he cuts her off, barking, “Not one word, Shelly. This isn’t up for discussion.” With that, he wheels around and stalks off, his shoulders stiff.
