Trapped

Chapter Twelve: Life Not Worth Living

Days. It's only been days since he last saw her. Only days since he last touched her and looked into her mesmerizing eyes. Only days since he last held her dead body in his arms. Yet it feels like an eternity without her.
He gulps down the last of his fifth beer that morning and sets the empty bottle aside. It seems he cannot function without her. His thoughts are wild and unclear. All he wants is a moment of silence. Serenity. A moment to not think for a while.
"Sheriff, there's a disturbance down at the Bates Motel. Someone called and said they heard screaming from one of the motel rooms." Sarah, the new receptionist, says as she peaks her head in his office. She gazes at the multiple bottles strewn out around his office.
"Thank you." he says, wanting her to leave. She moves to leave but pops her head back in.
"I'm sorry, sir. About your wife." she says apologetically. Hearing the words seems to rip his wound open again and his chest physically hurts as he thinks about Vera. He isn't sure where she went after she died here. Did she go back to California? To the real world? Or did she really just die.
Only one way to find out, he thinks to himself bitterly.
No. He couldn't kill himself. Vera would be so disappointed with him. He couldn't do that to her.
He stands up from his desk, grabbing his belt with his gun and pulling it on around his waist. This was something that Vera used to always do for him in the morning. She always put his belt on for him while he brushes his teeth. And then he would kiss her cheek and leave. The simple act was normal at the time. Perhaps he even took it for granted. Now he would do anything just to see her again.
He pulls into the motel, already on edge by the unusual look of the motel. The office door is left open, inside papers cover the floor as if someone has been angry and littered them everywhere. Room seven's door is broken in and inside, there is commotion.
Nestor cautiously walks toward it, his gun held in the air, pointed at the door. As he nears the door, his heart begins to race.
"Norman." he shouts out, wanting the boy to come to him instead of him going in. However, fate has a different idea. The screams inside the motel get louder as two men struggle during their fight. And then, a sickening sound is heard. Like the crunching of bones.
Nestor rounds the corner and peers into the room to find Norman sitting on a man's lap, bashing his head into the wooden part of the bed, blood splattering everywhere.
"Norman, stop it." Nestor shouts, wanting the poor boy to come to his senses. Norman turns around and smiles sweetly, standing up and brushing his hands on Norma's robe.
"Sheriff Romero. Pleasure seeing you. I wasn't expecting you to drop by." he says kindly, as if he just finished doing the dishes and not killing a man.
"Norman-"
"Norman? Alex, it's me. Norma. Your wife." Norman says, stepping toward Nestor. Nestor steps back, cocking back his gun.
"Norman stop right there." Nestor says. Norman stops walking and raises his hands in the air in surrender.
"Alright, you got me. But really Alex, we can just hide the body. I mean you won't throw me in jail, right? We are married after all." he says with a smirk. With every word that comes out of Norman's mouth about Norma, the pain in Nestor's chest increases.
"Norman-"
"What? Oh do I have to sleep with you to earn the luxury of trust? Of course. Everyone is always expecting me to just give myself away." Norman says, becoming angry as he begins to walk toward Nestor again.
"Shut up." Nestor says, becoming upset himself.
"Sure. I've always been the whore. Even to you. You've wanted to get into my pants since the moment I moved here."
"Shut up!" Nestor shouts, his hands shaking while he holds the gun up.
"Well what are you waiting for you perv? Go right the hell ahead and screw me! Have your way with me and leave like everyone else." Norman says, enjoying the reaction he is getting from Nestor.
"I said shut the hell up!" Nestor screams. He pulls his right hand back, preparing to punch Norman but Norman was too fast, punching Nestor's stomach.
Nestor falls back, dropping the gun to the floor. Norman kicks the side of Nestor's head, cracking it open as he falls to the floor. He tries to fight off the young boy and he probably could have if he had a will to live. But why did he want to survive? What has he got to live for?
Norman earns another punch and a few more kicks before Nestor pushes him back, off of him. By now, Norman has fought him until he is lying halfway out of the motel room, the sun beaming brightly onto his head and torso while his legs are still in the room. Nestor grabs the gun from the floor and points it at Norman.
But Nestor's vision is blurred with blood and tears, so all he can see is the outline of Norma's robe.
"Are you going to shoot your own wife?" Norman asks.
Nestor squeezes the trigger only a little, not enough to pull it back. His grip falters for a moment and the gun falls back to the floor. Norman laughs bitterly.
"You always were a weak man, Alex Romero. So now you'll die like one." Norman says. He places one last kick on the top of Nestor's head, forcing it to slam down into the concrete below it, knocking him out completely.