Distorted Affliction

Chapter One

I pulled the sheet across the bed and tucked the edges of it under the mattress, running my hands across the top to smooth out any creases left behind. My hands reached idly for the flat sheet that followed, my body working in autopilot to finish my last room of the day before heading back to my empty apartment. The work wasn't hard, but it kept my mind busy with its simple repetitive actions.

Housekeeping was, by no means, a luxury job. I had been working at the motel for nearly six months, and it was only a means to an end for me. My heart spent more and more time missing my son recently, and the work helped ease some of the pain I felt inside of my soul. As I folded the towel neatly on the corner of the bed, I caught sight of myself in the mirror above the sink, flinching at what I saw looking back.

I looked exhausted, and much older than I should for my age. The bags under my eyes were dark, my lips turned down on their own, and my hair was pulled into a bun that had fallen loose during the day, leaving red strands that framed my deep blue eyes. Even I could see the depth of sadness behind them, the months of mourning evident even in my body language.

With a deep sigh, I collected my cleaning supplies and loaded them back onto the cart outside of the door. I scratched my initials on the clipboard, signing off that I had finished the room to standards before pushing the metal cart down the sidewalk once again. The wheels squeaked and the metal clunked as I rolled it around the back of the motel towards the laundry room.

When I reached the laundry room, it was no surprise that the door was locked and the lights had been turned off. Shelby had left the hour before, leaving me to finish the last load of dirty linen myself. The keys jingled in my hand as I searched for the right one, when a hard crack filled the air and a flash of lightning streaked across the sky above me. It seemed there was more rain on the horizon, as if we hadn't had plenty in the last month. The weather seemed abnormally gloomy for Montana, which had always seemed like such a happy place until recently.

I pushed the laundry room door open, shoving the cart inside just before the rain came down. I watched it streak across the glass of the door, like tears falling at a funeral, and wondered absently what I would do when I was finished here. Every day had been the same, it seemed, for months on end. I had no motivation to do more than the bare minimum required for survival, grief holding all power over me.

It had been almost seven months since my son had died and my husband had filed for divorce and left me alone with all of my pain and guilt. I could still hear the sound of his voice, arguing with me over the decision that he had already made without ever hearing how I felt about it. It had been almost seven months of hell since he had packed his things and left the state, leaving me to fend off the grief alone.

I wanted to hate him for the choices he had made, but I knew he was dealing with the loss just as much as I was. It just didn't seem fair, that he had moved on and found a new partner to share his life with when I was still stuck in the moment of the fire when I had lost everything I had ever cared about. He had walked away, as if the life we had built before meant so little to him, and it left me dumbfounded to think that six years together really meant so little to him.

My phone buzzed in my apron, but I made no move to retrieve it as I pulled the lenin from the washer and tossed it in the dryer. The only people who ever called me were either my coworkers or my therapist, though I had stopped seeing him a month and a half ago. I just couldn't bring myself to keep pretending to be getting better, when the truth was that I was drowning my sorrows in alcohol every night to ease the aching in my chest.

The only sounds in the laundry room were the soft pattering of the rain on the window and the dryer tossing the lenin in slow circles. So when my phone buzzed again, the sound cut through my every thought, sending unreasonable anger shooting through me. I touched the screen, probably a little too hard, and pulled the phone to my ear without checking to see who it was.

"Hello?" I could hear the frustration in my voice, and I swallowed hoping to calm myself. I had been having emotional outbursts more frequently, irrational anger at the smallest inconvenience.

"August?"

Everything inside of me seemed to lurch and freeze at exactly the same moment. I hadn't heard his voice since the day he had left, though I recognized it immediately. My first instinct was to hang up, but something much deeper inside of me was full of curiosity.

"Well," I heard myself say. "You're either bold, or stupid to be calling me after everything, Lucas."

"Listen closely," he called urgently, and I felt myself become more attentive as he continued. "You won't remember this, but I told you once that I would come for you when the time is right. I need you to trust me, and I'm completely aware that you firmly believe you have no reason to--"

"Lucas, what the hell are you talking about?" I turned my back to the dryer, and paced towards the window on the door, glancing out into the back parking lot of the motel.

"August, please." He sounded breathless, but urgent nonetheless. "I can explain all of this to you, in time, but right now I need to know you're safe. Where are you?"

"I'm at work," I answered absently, squinting through the streaks of water at a shadow lurking on the edge of the parking lot. The rain had slowed, but the sky held all of the ferocity of a storm waiting to drown the sleepy little town without warning.

"Leave," Lucas urged quickly. "Go home, pack essentials, and I'll text you the location to meet me."

I blinked, not entirely hearing his words on the other side of the phone. The figure was getting closer, slowly approaching the laundry room as my heart seemed to slow enough for me to hear it beating in my ears. It was as if I had been pulled into a trance, everything outside of focus slipping into the background around me.

"August!" I snapped back into reality, stepping away from the door, knocking my hip into the table behind me.

"Lucas, what's happening?" I heard myself ask, my voice nearly a whisper. "There's someone here."

I wasn't sure what was happening, what he was talking about, or if the figure in the parking lot had anything to do with the vague instructions Lucas had given me, but everything inside of me told me I was in danger. My gut had twisted, and I couldn't explain it, but my skin was crawling, fight or flight responses triggered inside of me on their own accord.

"Go now," I heard Lucas call through the phone, but I buried it in my pocket, searching the laundry room aimlessly for something I could turn into a weapon if I needed.

It was as if a switch had been flipped, and the months of grief had been shoved into the very back of my mind in a way I couldn't explain. My hands reached for the broom, snapping the handle in half over my knee effortlessly to give myself a decent tool for protection. I pressed my back against the wall, keeping my eyes on the door as I tried to make myself as small as I could.

The door handle jiggled, but the lock was automatic, and required a key to enter to keep guests from coming and going as they pleased. I had cursed that door on multiple occasions, locking myself out when I was in a rush, but I found myself grateful at that moment.

The relief didn't last long, as the door came flying off the hinges with a loud crash as it slammed into the dryer on the far side of the room. My heart lurched in my chest, but my body responded without hesitation when the first boot stepped into the laundry room. I took two quick strides and swung the broken broom handle as hard as I could, landing a solid blow before darting past the figure into the rain.

My legs argued, but I pushed myself through the parking lot quickly, reaching for my car keys as I ran. I noted that it was odd that there wasn't a single guest visible, where there were usually at least a handful smoking on the porch at all times. It felt eerie, but I didn't allow myself to think about it for more than a moment before I pressed the button to unlock the car, flung the door open, and climbed inside.

The car was in gear before I had time to process anything, and I was barreling out of the parking lot, the silhouette of the figure visible in the rearview as I sped away. I heaved a sigh, grabbed my phone from my pocket, and called the last person I actually cared to talk to in that moment.