Murder At The Hotel (DISCONTINUED)

how to disappear completely

Fan stood there, frozen in terror. It felt like his feet were sinking into the ground. 

He suddenly became aware of how abnormally dry his mouth was—goodness, why was his mouth so dry all the sudden?—and how shaky his hands were. 

Green liquid stained the carpet, glass scattered around the sharp spikes. Where had these small spikes come from, and so suddenly as well? Fan's mind was fuzzy, he couldn't think straight. Like Testtube's liquid remains were sinking into the carpet, the truth was just sinking in for the poor fan.

He had just killed his best friend.

His knees buckled and a strangled cry escaped his lips. Gaining the strength to sit up, he realised his hands were covered in Testtube's gooey, sticky insides. Horrified, he wiped it onto the carpet. He stood up again, a pool of dread twisting in his stomach.  

"Fan?"

The voice cut through the air and it was almost like a slap to the face for Fan, dragging him back to reality. Suddenly, he realised how bad this looked. With accusations against him and Testtube's death so close... Fan shot up and whipped around to look at the mystery voice. 

"OJ!" Fan exclaimed. He had a guilty look about him, not helping his case at all. OJ looked horrified, his mouth slightly agape in terror. 

"You... you killed her! You murderer!" OJ shrieked, pointing at Fan accusingly. OJ looked more angry than terrified now. Fan broke into a sweat, suddenly unable to talk. Why couldn't he talk? Where was his voice? A lump formed in his throat. 

OJ pounced at Fan, grabbing his arm. OJ's grip on Fan was skull-crushingly tight as he lead him downstairs to face his fate. No! No... this is all... wrong! Fan want to scream, but the words wouldn't come out. As they entered the ground floor, objects turned to stare at the unusual pair, OJ looking scarily enraged, Fan a nervous, crumbling wreck. Whispers spread around the hotel like wildfire. 

"GUYS!" OJ yelled, loud enough for the entire hotel to hear. "I THINK I FOUND THE MURDERER!" 

Gasps of shock erupted, a crowd forming in the living area. Some faces stuck out particularly to Fan. Candle... Paintbrush... Lightbulb. Pain was fresh and clear to see on all the faces of his friends. 

"This little wretch," OJ hissed, pushing Fan forward roughly. Fan stumbled in front of the crowd, the knots in his stomach becoming tighter and tears threatening to spill. "killed Testtube! I saw it with my own eyes!" Angry murmurings arose from the crowd, especially from an outraged Nickel.

The heartless murderer OJ just described... that's not me.. Fan thought weakly, his mind overwhelmed and he felt vomit rise up in his throat. This isn't happening... this can't be happening! This... it can't be real.

But it was real and it was happening. The bile threatened to make an appearance. He swallowed it, his mouth still disgustingly dry. His eyes stung. Everyone was talking at him. Fan smelt something gross. A good guess was that he'd succumbed to the throw-up and just... threw up.

"GET HIM OUT OF HERE!" voices roared. They were to loud for him, his ears hurt. Fan's ears were ringing terribly loudly. 

OJ thrusted him up roughly and pushing him to the elevator.  After exiting the elevator, OJ dumped him into a hotel room without a second thought, slamming the door and tightly locking it. 

Fan just laid vacantly on the floor for what seemed hours, wondering how it even got to here. They didn't let him put a single word in, not even to defend himself.

 Well, to be fair, he was incredibly disoriented... but whatever. It didn't matter. It totally didn't matter that the objects he considered his friends didn't let him speak for himself and explain the misunderstanding. 

Biting back a sob, Fan sat up. After a quick glance, he concluded it was just like any other room in Hotel OJ. Two beds, the bedside tables, the seperate bathroom, a vent, the windows...

The windows!

That's when an idea struck him. Either a stupid or brave one, he truly didn't know.

The average Hotel OJ room had a window, right? Windows could be opened, if not locked. Windows could also be smashed. Maybe if he escaped he could set the record straight, prove his innocence. It would look bad though.

Well... only if I'm caught, Fan thought cheekily as he made his way to the window. It easily slid open. The wind smacked Fan in the face. Guess OJ didn't think of that, did he? 

Looking out the window, he immediately slammed it back down. It was way to high up and it was very windy outside. He would blow away easily, and then he would be stuck in the breeze. That wouldn't be good!

Sighing heavily, he could feel tears of disappointment spring into his eyes. Stupid stupid stupid! Looking up to the ceiling, he could feel a scream of anger, sadness and frustration mixed into one bubble up in his throat, but it never made its way out.

There was a vent right above him which he could utilise... perhaps pull off the cover? He could crawl out somewhere. Right, that seemed like a plan!

"One problem," Fan muttered to himself. "How am I gonna get up?"

Out of the corner of his eye, he spotted two chairs tucked into a desk propped up against the wall. Above that, a large TV screen. Suddenly, an idea sparked in his mind. An appalling scraping noise filled up the room as Fan dragged the desk directly under the vent.

Fan flopped onto the bed which was directly behind him. He would take a short rest. Who could've known moving a desk would've put such a huge physical strain on him? When you look at the big picture, Fan supposed it made sense. He just killed his best friend, had been accused of being the murderer, thrown around like teddy bear, then shoved into this room.

Plus, he is also a very light fan who doesn't do much exercise to begin with...

He shot up from the bed, suddenly filled with determination. He will prove them all wrong and show he didn't kill Testtube, in fact, he believed he was incapable of committing such an atrocity! With this new-found confidence coursing through his veins, he climbed onto the desk and worked on removing the vent cover. 

Fan tried and tested many items from the room, damaging the vent cover. Eventually, he was able to successfully remove the vent cover. Pushing himself up, a smell of dust invaded his nostrils and he sneezed loudly. 

"Yeugh!" exclaimed Fan, wiping his nose on his arm, then onto the vent's walls. After that ordeal, he began moving forward. The rustle and clatter of the vents was very loud and very clear. Fan cringed at it but tried to ignore it. 

Shuffling through the vents, Fan let a shriek escape his lips as he bumped into another object. Panic went overdrive in his body, before making eye contact with the fellow vent crawler. 

"WHAT ARE YOU DOING HERE?" whisper-yelled Fan, shocked.