PSA: ALL tweets/texts/links in this work are FAKE and recreated to fit into the FICTION of this story. NOT intended to cause harm or ill intent. These are only created for the purpose of FICTION.
"Good things take time, but not when you keep running...
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✲꘏ ꘏ ꘏ ꘏✲
Victoria
The next day was typical – work, check on the horses during my lunch break, freshen up and walk around when I wasn't busy as I was working in an enclosed area. When five o'clock came around, Sam seemed to be more excited than I was to visit the St. James Hotel, but I knew that he wasn't feeling the same emotions I was since I kept having flash images go through my head.
After I had changed into new clothes and spent a little more time on my hair and makeup, my phone ringing nearly made me jump out of my skin, "Hello?"
"Hey, sweetie," Zak said, his voice sounding hoarse. "Are you and Sam still up for the tour?"
"Of course. Are you okay? You don't sound too good."
"Yeah, I'll be alright. We're on our way to come and pick you two up."
"We're actually pulling in right now, Zak." I could hear Nick say in the background.
"Well, we're pulling in," He breathed a chuckle. "When you're ready, come on."
"Be there in a second!" I nodded before hanging up.
The hotel was beautiful, and I was beyond grateful that Zak gave me this opportunity to walk into places of this hotel that usual guest didn't get to enter. I stood in the lobby looking up at the old chandelier while Sam asked Zak and Nick questions about the place. He was a history buff, and he even mentioned to me that he was lucky to visit places like this. "You alright, Tori?" Aaron asked me, a look of concern on his face.
"Yeah, why?"
"You just look zoned out."
I shrugged, "Just looking around. I keep thinking about the number eighteen for some reason."
"Dude," Aaron scoffed in disbelief.
"What?" Zak asked, making it obvious that he had been vaguely eavesdropping on our conversation, but his reaction was out of curiosity after hearing Aaron's tone distinctively change.
"She said she keeps thinking about the number eighteen."
"Are you serious?" Zak replied, enthusiastic.
"Does it mean anything?"
"What else comes to mind when you kept thinking about eighteen?"
"Poker and gunfire." I said confidently, knitting my brows together when I heard Aaron chuckle in surprise and disbelief while Zak did the same. What the fuck was going on?! "Does that have any relation to the number eighteen? Or was the number related to the year it was built?"
"Well, both, but the fact that you mentioned the words poker and gunfire..." Zak trailed off. "A man named TJ played poker here, and he was shot in the back right in front of room eighteen, and that's where he died."
