Page 83 of The Monster of Hotel No. 7
I glance down at my piña colada like it is a companion, then lower my head and sip from the paper straw. The icy blend of pineapple juice and coconut milk alongside the rum spills down my throat and it doesn’t fit the season, but this has always been a favorite of mine. Perks of having a bartender mostly to yourself; I can coerce him to create anything, anytime.
October first, and despite my drink, itfeelslike Halloween here, even if Writhe has no taste and has decoratednothing.As it is, my parents are in Septem with Mads Bentzen and others, waiting for Stein Rule to emerge from some part of the hotel, and neither Cosmo, Von, nor Isadora are here. All three of them are working, even if they’re doing different jobs.
I am twenty-one, alone, too sober, and very fucking bored.
My mind drifts to Sullen Rule as it always does when I am this way, and as I reach the second floor of the hotel, turning to drift aimlessly down the darkened, silent halls in my black lace dress that drips off my shoulders and reaches the floor, I wonder if he is somewhere in No. 7.
I wonder, if now that we are older and I have fucked two men, giving mea littleexperience, I could coerce him to kiss me.
My cheeks heat at just the thought, imagining his dark eyes and brown hair, the intensity in which he stares at me, with his hood pulled over his head.Hot.I would get to my knees just to see him without his shirt on because his signature sweatshirt is hiding a broad, muscular body. Even all the extra clothes he wears cannot fully conceal that.
As I’m lost in thoughts of daydreaming about a boy I know I will never have, a thump sounds to my left and I jump, skittering away from the door, my heart thumping too fast in my chest.
For something to do and maybe for liquid courage, I take a huge gulp of my drink, flexing my cold fingers around the icy glass and letting the sweetness explode on my tongue as I stare at the room in front of me.
Number 234.
The hotel is closed to the public as it often is, since Stein called this meeting.
No one should be here.
I suppose the cleaning staff could be in, tidying up, but… Maybe I didn’t hear a thing. Perhaps it’s the spooky season and the rum getting to me, or maybe the desire I have to feelsomething.
Life is passing me by and I’m standing still, and I don’t know what I want, who I should be, and I am very rich and very bored and too spoiled and it feels like I am waiting around for my parents to marry me off because I’m that pathetic.
I glance at the space between the door and the marble floor, and at first, I see nothing. I’m about to continue my aimless stroll, my yearning for Sullen, whenthere.
Right there.
A shadow.
Footfalls.
I suck in air, flattening myself against the door at my back which might be a terrible idea because if 234 is occupied, perhaps this one behind me is too and some serial killer will open the door and slice my throat and I’ll bleed out all over the hallway and Sullen will find me too late.
But before I can move to avoid such a fate, I hear a whimper.
Like… sniffling.
Someone… crying.
The shadow grows closer to the door.
My heart is erratic, and I have to tighten my grip on the drink in my hand lest I drop it and give myself away.
I glance down at my black boots, the baby pink laces suddenly seeming so very much like a dead giveaway. No one else in Writhe wears shit like this. Not even my mother.
Whoever is in there will know I’m here.
Unless… My parents were waiting for Stein. They all were. Maybe he has some sort of little experiment happening behind these doors? A torture session?
Stein gives me the creeps, but I couldn’t say why.
As it is, I don’t move.
I don’t breathe.
The shadow falls closer, blocking any hint of light beneath the door.
