Page 7 of Drowned In Silence

It’s been four dayssince he showed up at my door asking for money, and four days that I haven’t been able to find him. The owner hasn’t been at the front desk and he won’t return Sabrina’s phone calls. I decided this morning that if he doesn’t show up by noon, I am taking some of his money and I’m going to go buy something to eat. I’m fucking starving, and I can’t just sit around with all this money just collecting dust.

I don’t know where he went, but it’s definitely unusual. I can’t get a moments peace without him coming over, banging on my fucking door, and interrupting my mood.

I haven’t had any of my regulars this week either. Everything seems different and strange, and I haven’t had time to adjust to this new feeling. Shit, I don’t even know what this new feeling is. Something changed and fucked up the tiny schedule I did have, and I don’t like it.

Don’t hate it either, but I don’t do well with new guys,and it’s almost as if they all got a hint that I’m struggling and decided not to come over anymore. It means less money, less cold showers, and who knows if I can even stay in this room after Sunday.

It’s pretty depressing. I’ve already been sucked into my head lately, I don’t need to be thrown out on the streets again either. At this point, I’m ready to be done with life. Just hang myself with a towel off of the shower curtain or some shit. But knowing my luck, the rod would fall and I’d be sitting on my ass gasping for air and crying in frustration.

Do other people plan their demise? Like, do people just wake up one day and decide that today is the day I die?

I shake my head and gather my things. I need to get out of this room, at least for a little bit. Take a nice little walk through the field to the store. Feel some fresh air on my skin. Remember that I’m just human.

Stepping out of the door and clicking it behind me, I look around the motel. Not a soul in sight, just a couple cars. Perfect. I don’t need to make small talk, or flirt with anyone tonight. I just want to go get some food, come back, and find something on the damn tv.

When I enter the field behind the motel, the hair on the back of my neck stands up, but I try and pay no attention to it. It’s overgrown by weeds and dead sunflowers, leaving a tiny trail from one side to the other. Normally I’d be paranoid as fuck, but I’ve walked this way a million times and never had any issues.

About halfway through the field I get that tingly sensation that I’m being watched. I stand on my tippy toes trying to look over the weeds, but I can’t see anything. I use my half-dead flashlight to look around, but I come up short when I spot someone else a few yards behind me.

It has to be a man, probably a regular getting his thrill out of the chase.

“I don’t want any today. You can come by the room tomorrow and we can work shit out,” I yell into the dark.

He doesn’t say anything but takes two steps forward as I take two steps back.

“Seriously! I don’t want any tonight!”

The man continues to walk towards me, so I do my best to ignore him. Maybe he is just trying to walk the same path I am, and I’m making it harder on him by pestering.

I turn around and keep walking, my heartbeat picking up as I hear him crunch over the dead foliage that surrounds us. He must be closer now– his steps becoming more noticeable.

I can do this. I can be brave and stand up to this random person. Maybe he will rob me and leave my body alone. Or maybe he wants to use my body and leave without paying. Either way, I turn around and come face to face with him. Except it’s not face to face.

All I can see is his piercing blue eyes and my sour expression reflected back at me.

“Nice mask, who are you trying to be?”

The man cocks his head to the side and looks me up and down. My fists are clenched and I’m shaking with frustration.

“Are you going to talk, fucker? Or are we going to dance or some weird shit?”

He growls under the mask, reaches out, and grabs me by the throat.

“Hey, hey, hey! No touching unless you’re planning on paying for the merch,” I yell at him trying to pull away. As soon as I do his grip tightens, but he still doesn’t cut off my airway.

I breathe heavily and I’m pretty sure he can feel my skittering pulse beneath his fingertips.

He uses his other hand to pull the mask up just enough so I can see his lips, bends down, and licks my cheek. I try to put my hands on his chest to push him away, but he takes a small step back and I’m left swatting at the air.

“What the fuck is wrong with you?” I squeak out.

He smiles and his body moves like he is laughing as he puts the mask back down. My hands wrap around his, trying to pull him away from my neck, and all he does is shake his head back and forth.

“No? Do you like holding women captive, at night, in the middle of a fucking field, you psycho?!”

He tilts his head and I can see his eyes dilate in response.

His fingers tighten once more, cutting off the remaining air that I hold in my lungs. I get more defensive by the second, trying to kick and hit at first, but slowly losing momentum and thoughts.

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