The Nightmare in me?

Chapter Nine: A new beginning for a friend?

George burst through the doors of the hotel with, a limp Michael in his arms; he shouted for the manager over and over again but, no one came. In the end he had to go and get the man himself, he lay Michael on the sofa in the lobby and ran to get him. In no time at all the manager came down the stairs with George, so George explained the situation.

"This boy is kind of a friend of mine. Please look after him while I go and deal with a matter of mine ok. He just got a bit drunk that's all." George placed his hand on top of Michaels head, and said goodbye as if Michael wasn't dead. George looked at the manager, walking off through the door and going to whatever business that he needed to attend.

"What is all this shouting, sir? I wish to know immediately." An old lady from America, was in the doorway of the staircase and was looking grumpy.

"It's nothing Mrs Style, please go back to bed. It's just a friend of one of the other guests, please go back to bed."

"Well, I hope he has to pay as well. Otherwise, I'm not paying."

"He is not paying, he is not staying. The other guest brought him here, as something has happened. This man is just a bit drunk that's all."

"If that is all it is then, I am fine with that. I will see you in a little bit." Mrs Style walked to her room, and slammed the door. The manager hated her for that and, everything else. She was such a stroppy old woman, most of the time she acted like a three year old. The manager looked at Michael, picking him up and only just managed to carry him to the manager’s room, out the way of the guests.

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When George returned three days later, the hotel had the smell of dead people, rotting dead people. George looked around everywhere had a body after body. When George looked closer he realised, that the bodies were the guests that were at the hotel. Michael had changed; he was sitting on the sofa when George walked through the door. Michael turned the television on as, George was about to say something.

“Welcome to this evening’s news, at least fifty people have been found dead over the last three days. Some of the people found, have been torn apart and some, with dramatic blood loss. Who is this serial killer? Who can possible be the next victim?” Michael turned off the television, and looked at George.

“Hi, George where have you been?” Michael was speaking sarcastically, he knew where George had been. Michael still in love with Rouge, even though she killed him, wanted to know where she was. He just wanted to talk for a bit.

“Michael, you know where I have been, and what did you do to this place and people? You didn’t have to kill every single one of them. There was at least twenty people here, you killed them all in a matter of …” George waited for a number of minutes before Michael answered.

“Three hours…” Michael slowly said as he stood, staring at the clock.

“Three hours, three hours. That is stupid; Ok next question. How have you been feeding over the past three days, after you fed off all the guests here in three hours?”

“I simple fed from them again. I placed the people that tasted the best in the big fridge in the kitchen, then when I got hungry, I simple fed from the again.”

“Very clever however, I still don’t agree with it. Last question, why you are that stupid… not to clean up after yourself.” George shouted as loud as he could, just so he could make it clear to Michael.

“That I didn’t think to do.” Michael said quietly to try and not get an answer back off of George. “It just felt good killing… the feeling and the thrill. You know what I did when I got to the girl.