Page 20 of Chill

I don’t know what I’m expecting. Maybe a rundown house or park or graveyard. Maybe an Old West ghost town, because that seems like a good place to kill someone in Texas.

What I don’t expect is an ancient, dilapidated motel on a street with more of the same style of buildings, all of them in a blocky, concrete style that screamsindustrial. This place and every other one looks abandoned, especially under the hot Texas sun, which beats down mercilessly to soak into my black roots. It’s not an Old West town, but it sure is abandoned.

“You guys really have a thing for industrial districts, don’t you?” I murmur, walking closer to the old building. The letters have mostly worn off by now, and I link my hands behind my back, staring up at the memory of the wordMOTELon the concrete. With the busted windows and broken off door, I can’t imagine why someone would come here willingly.

I certainly wouldn’t, if I wasn’t here with them.

“Yeah,” Val chuckles, walking toward me with a backpack and a duffel bag on his shoulders. Wordlessly I take the backpack, and he murmurs his thanks as I slip it over my shoulders while checking to make sure my phone is in my pocket. “I guess we sort of do. But everyone has a style, right?” With that, he takes off at a brisk walk, moving through the broken off door and into the dark interior. Kieran follows, casting me a glance, without saying a word as I just stand there.

“Yeah…” I sigh finally, turning to look once more at the lone street running between the many ugly, blocky buildings. A breeze picks up, and I can almost feel the moisture being leached from my skin in the dry Texas air. “Everyone certainly has…something.”

9

When they’reready to go, their masks are on and they’re back to beingHarrowandRavage.Not that I’m complaining, since I seem to have a bit of a thing for them when they’re like this. Though, if I don’t swear on my cats I’ll stay put, Kieran threatens to handcuff me to the desk in the corner of the most intact motel room we could find.

I also kindly remind them I have no desire to watch themactuallykill someone, which seems to be enough. They leave with their masks, their personas, and their knives. Harrow takes a gun as well, but Val doesn’t bother.

I’m left with the duffel bag, the backpack, and my phone for company. The room is decrepit enough that I’m certainly not about to flop down onto the stained, bare mattress for a nap. I barely feel comfortable perching on the old, raggedy desk chair that wobbles if I don’t stay perfectly balanced.

A few minutes later, I hear the sound of a car approaching. The engine cuts somewhere nearby, and I can’t help the way my heart rate picks up, as if I’m the one in danger. As if I have to do anything other than sit here.

They’d told me it wouldn’t take long. To just not move or open the door, even though there was no way the guy would ever get this far.

Val even told me he’d be dead in the first five minutes while stroking the hilt of his blade. And I believe him. After all, I’ve seen what they do to people in their ‘haunted houses.’ I know he won’t have any issue with taking this man’s life.

But it’s hard. Especially when the minutes tick by and I don’t hear anything else after the distant slam of the front door. No footsteps. No screams. Not even the sound of a loud conversation.

Surely I’ll hearsomething, right? That’s both my expectation and my fear. The closer I am to this, the harder it is for me to handle. The more trepidation I feel about keeping my word and living up to my bravado about being able to accept every part of them.

Especially this one.

Taking a few deep breaths helps me calm down, and I remind myself that while I have to accept it, I don’t have to be a part of what they do. All I have to do is sit here and wait, and tell them I’m fine with it when they get back. No matter how covered in blood they are, or how they come back.

As long as they come back.

They’re the ones with the weapons, after all. Plus, they showed me the chain Val would be using to lock the front and back doors, just in case he got away from them. Though they’d both assured me that was very unlikely.

No one ever gets away from them, after all.

I’m a pretty great testament to that.

Finally, I pull out my phone, playing a game of Sudoku to distract myself. It barely works, and I’m so not into it, so I lose pretty quickly by going over my limit for mistakes.

Do you want to try again?

The little option screen pops up, glaringly bright in the dim room with the musty, moldy curtains drawn. It’s so quiet that I’m starting to worry, even though I know the motel is a bit on the larger side, and more than one floor. Being on the second floor, I shouldn’t expect to hear anything. Not really.

That’s what I tell myself, anyway.

Hitting no, I get to my feet and pace to the window, dipping down to see if I can spot anything between the curtains. But all I see is the empty parking lot that’s entirely bereft of cars and activity.

I promised not to leave.

That was the deal, and I remind myself of that as I pace to the door, then back to the window once again.

I promised to stayright here.

So I pace back again.

---