The Motel

It was dark. Too dark. And cold. A brisk wind caught her coat and tried to yank it away from her body. She pulled it tightly around her small figure, put her head down and walked faster. The road was entirely deserted. She had no idea how long she had been walking for, but not a single car had passed her. She had watched the sun dip below the horizon and now she saw the stars in the sky above her. It hadn’t looked this far on the map. The motel she was going to stay in was one town over from where the man in the truck had dropped her off. She’d be able to find a ride into the city in the morning. If she made it to the town before morning.

She crested the next hill and sighed with the relief. The lights of the town were below her in the valley. But her relief was short-lived when she felt the first raindrops land on her face. She cursed and pulled her coat as close to her body as she could. She hitched her duffel bag higher up her shoulder so she could hold her hood against the wind that threatened to rip it away from her. The rain came down hard and she was soon squelching through puddles that nearly covered the toes of her boots. The stars were gone now and the only light she could see was radiating from the town. It was like the star of Bethlehem, guiding her to shelter.

Finally, she reached the town. The motel was on the outskirts of the town and she pushed open the door. She heaved in long breaths, having ran the last half mile or so. She approached the desk and smiled at the man who stood behind it. He was old and had a grey scruffy beard that didn’t seem to be cared for.

“I’d like a room please,” She reached into her duffel bag to find her credit card.

He huffed, lifting a pen to write in his book, “I figured that. Name?”

“Sascha Miles. Just for one night please,” Sascha handed her credit card to the man, and she read his name as being Marvin from the tag on his chest.

Marvin grunted his acknowledgement and ran her card before handing it back, along with a set of keys, “Ice machine and vending machine in the hall. Checkout is 11am. Don’t be late.”

Sascha kept her smile on her face as she took her keys. She gave Marvin a cheery goodnight and headed off to her room, just glad she had made it. She stepped into her room and it wasn’t quite enough to completely dampen her mood. There were two single beds that looked as though they had been bought around twenty years ago. The television was also old, and Sascha questioned whether it would work. She dumped her duffel bag on the bed that looked the worst of the two and grabbed her clean pyjamas. She was thankful for the waterproof lining in the bag, everything was more or less dry. She headed into the bathroom, determined to take a nice warm bath to ward off the chills.

After inspecting the bath carefully and deeming it good enough for use, Sascha stripped off her soaking clothes as the tub filled up. She lowered herself happily in the warm water, and she was surprised there was warm water at all in this dump. She closed her eyes and fell asleep.

~

10:58am.

Marvin tapped his fingers impatiently on the counter that his check in/check out book sat on. His left hand held his pen, ready to check out the woman as soon as she came out of her room. He took a long sip of his coffee and demolished another biscuit. He reached for another before realising the packet was now empty. He grumbled and tossed it in the small bin beside him before looking up at the clock again.

11:01am.

She was late.

With a loud huff, Marvin went around the desk and down the hall to the room. He knocked loudly on the door, “Miss! It's after 11! If you don’t come out right now, I’ll have to charge you for a second night!”

Silence.

Marvin frowned and put his ear up against the door to listen for any sound that she was in there. His frown deepened when he heard nothing. She certainly hadn’t left already, he had been at the desk since 7am. Could she have left earlier? She didn’t leave the key. Marvin huffed again and went back to get a key for the room. He didn’t use this one often and it stuck for a moment. Just when he thought it might snap in the lock, the key turned and Marvin swung the door open.

He stopped when he saw that there was a bag on one of the beds. Neither bed looked slept in, although there were the girl’s clothes from the previous night thrown over the chair. It occurred to Marvin that he couldn’t remember the girl’s name. In spite of himself, he stood in the doorway for a few moments, thinking about it. Then, suddenly, the right neuron fired and he nodded to himself. It was Sascha, her name was Sascha.

Marvin looked over to the bathroom. The door was slightly ajar and there was a smell coming from it. He couldn’t recognise the smell but he didn’t think it could be good. A feeling of nervousness washed over him. After clearing his throat, Marvin called out, “Excuse me, miss? It's after checkout, I’m going to need to charge you for a second night.”

There was no reply, and by now Marvin felt as though something was very wrong. He crossed to the bathroom door on legs that felt like lead. He pushed the door open hesitantly and he let out a horrified cry at what he saw.

Sascha was lying in the tub. Her eyes were closed and she looked peaceful. But the water she lay in was a crimson red and there was a jagged cut along her throat. Marvin stumbled backwards, knocking a lamp over, and he ran out of the room to call the police.

~

It had been three weeks and Detective Anderson was at a loss. Sascha Miles had had her throat slit in a locked room. The murder had occured sometime between 9.15pm and 11am the following day, according to the owner of the motel, Marvin Blaye. Anderson didn’t like Marvin. He had a previous conviction for breaking and entering in his late twenties, and though he was now in his fifties, he still had a shifty look in his eyes. Not to mention, Marvin was the only person with an extra set of keys for the room. Sascha’s set of keys had been found on the bed next to her duffel bag.

Anderson sat back in her chair, twirling a pen in her fingers. She had just watched the CCTV footage of Marvin leaving the office of the motel at 11pm and he didn’t return again until 7am. The CCTV hadn’t shown anyone else coming or going after Sascha went into her room for the night. Anderson sat up, leaning her forearms on her desk. It was cluttered with pictures from the crime scene, CCTV images and background checks they had done on both Marvin and Sascha.

Sascha’s parents were nowhere to be found. Even a check on the credit card company yielded no results. It was as if they didn’t exist. Anderson had assigned a few people to find them, even if they were dead themselves. She groaned in frustration and pushed herself away from the desk, standing up. This case was just a whole jumbled mess. Something inside her, her gut probably, told Anderson that Marvin had done it. She didn’t understand how yet, but she knew she would figure it out.

Anderson made up her mind on what to do next and she grabbed her coat before she left her office. One of her sergeants asked her where she was going, if she needed anyone to come with her for assistance. Anderson shook her head and waved the young man off. She told him that she was fine on her own, that she wanted to see the crime scene again.

~

It was early evening by the time Detective Anderson made it to the hotel. Her tires crunched on the gravel as she pulled up in front of the office. She stepped out of the car and shivered as the cold wind bit at her skin. Anderson hurried inside, glad that her ponytail was keeping her hair until control.

Marvin was at the front desk again tonight. He looked up at Anderson and instantly reached to give her the key for the room that had been the setting for one of the worst crimes Anderson had ever seen. Anderson gave Marvin a cold look as she took the keys and went to the room. She stepped inside quickly, wanting to get away from the man. For an extra sense of privacy, she locked the door behind herself.

Anderson turned her back to the door to survey the room. By now, all the evidence had been moved out and the room had been cleaned. By all accounts, it was as if the murder of Sascha Miles had never occured. That thought made Anderson feel quite forlorn. At the same time, she remembered that they had not found anyone who knew Sascha, and that made Anderson’s heart ache. For someone to live a life, and have it so cruelly torn away, only to have no one miss them; it was a horrible feeling.

But Anderson was in charge of finding who killed the young girl, and she felt that responsibility heavily on her shoulders. She had come here to remind herself of the crime. She wanted to perhaps feel what Sascha had felt. Maybe they had missed something that could give them some clue as to what had happened. Anderson slowly walked around the bedroom, letting her eyes wander over everything in the room. It was much easier to do this without the forensics teams and other officers here. It gave her some peace to think.

After a few moments, she moved slowly into the bathroom. There was absolutely no trace of blood or any other evidence of what had occured. Not for the first time, Anderson thought it was incredible how clean a place could look after a vicious murder. She sat on the edge of the bathtub and she shivered. It was so cold.

Anderson frowned.

It hadn’t been this cold a moment ago.

She stood up and was about to move towards the door before it slammed shut all on its own. Anderson let out a shocked scream and instantly felt a blush of embarrassment. It was just the wind, of course.

She took a moment to regain her composure and then she reached to open the door.

The handle refused to move at all.

Anderson’s frown returned. Even if the door had locked, this handle should still have turned. Then she noticed that there was no lock on the bathroom door. But she had locked the bedroom door. There was no way anyone could be in there with her, she had left the key in the lock.

Panic started to cloud Anderson’s mind. She pulled frantically at the door, desperately trying to escape.

Then Anderson heard it.

Breathing.

Right behind her.

Anderson froze. Her fingers dropped from the door handle. She wanted to turn around, she wanted to prove to herself it was just her imagination. Her brain was screaming at her feet to just move, but they didn’t take any notice. Self-preservation was in full effect, and some child-like instinct told Anderson that if she didn’t see whatever was behind her, it couldn’t hurt her.

Of course, her adult brain knew that wasn’t true. The breathing was getting closer. Anderson could feel it ripple on her skin. In her gut, she knew that this was the person, or the thing, that had killed Sascha Miles. With every second that went past, Anderson became more and more convinced that this was not a human being.

She steeled herself, tensing her muscles in preparation for what she would see.

But she could never have been prepared.

Anderson whirled around and her ponytail whipped against the bathroom door as she let out a bloodcurdling scream. Whatever it was, its skin was a clammy grey and it had dark, dark grey eyes. It didn’t have any hair and its skin was stretched tightly over its bones. It lifted hands with fingers that looked like talons, and reached for Anderson’s neck. The last thing she was consciously aware of was the smell of rot and decay that emanated from the beast in front of her. Then a tsunami of blood erupted from her throat and Anderson’s body went limp.