Hinder • {Bill Skarsgård}

||Chapter Nine||

Ella went to the Mercer hotel—the drive nothing but a haze as she thought over what all she would say to him—to Bill.

It had been seven years since she'd seen him face to face—seven years since she had spoken to him. She remembered the last words she ever muttered to him, "I'll call you." What a ridiculous thing to say, Ella thought.

She had never called Bill.

After Bill confessed he would be moving back to Stockholm, the will to ever contact him again had dissipated. He had been more than willing to let her go—Bill had been eager to start over in life.

At least, that's how it seemed.

As it turned out, Bill had never moved back to Sweden. Instead, he had stayed in Los Angeles—by the beginning of the following year, he had been cast as Roman Godfrey in the Netflix Original series, Hemlock Grove. 2012 had been the year Bill slowly began to gain notoriety. No sooner than Ella left his life, Bill began making a name for himself in Hollywood.

It couldn't have been coincidental—the pair were simply not meant to be; Ella was holding him back.

She approached the receptionist desk, fiddling with her purse strap to rid the nerves in her gut.

It wasn't helping.

"Welcome to the Mercer Hotel, do you have reservations?" The young man spoke.

"No, I'm actually here to see someone." Ella swallowed, the thought of saying his name out loud was nearly too much to bare. She was getting nauseas just thinking about it.

"Who might that be?" The dark haired man spoke, clicking a pen. Ella saw his name tag read: "Marc"

She leaned into the desk, straining to whisper his name. "Bill Skarsgård." She swallowed again; the taste unsettling.

"I'm sorry, I'm not allowed to confirm or deny-"

"Just- call him and tell him that Ella Cates is here to speak with him. It's... it's important." She practically begged.

The man stood frozen for a moment; holding up one finger as he gestured for Ella to stay put. He picked up the phone, typing on the computer before dialing buttons. He turned his back to Ella, folding his arms as he placed the phone to his ear.

Ella tried not to listen—scared that when Bill heard her name again, he would tell the gentleman not to send her up.

"There's an Ella Cates here that wants to speak with you, she claims it's important." Marc spoke low, but audible. She watched as he nodded, as if Bill could see his gesture. "Yes, sir. I'll send her right up." Marc turned, setting the phone back on the hook. "He's staying in room twelve on the sixth floor." Marc spoke low as if someone was eavesdropping. Ella nodded, making her way to the elevator with a lump in her throat.

Bill knew she was coming to see him—Bill had not denied her entry. Her heart felt like it was in her throat, thumping in sporadic pitter-patters. She wondered why he had let her in so easily; not a single hesitation was heard from the short phone call.

She questioned his motives—his intend on flying off the handle and giving her a piece of his mind. Ella tried reminding herself of what kind of person Bill was; he was sweet, understanding and nonjudgmental. But that had been before she had left him alone in that one bedroom apartment seven years ago. She didn't know who Bill was anymore—perhaps she never had.

She made her way out of the elevator and down the hall. The closer she got to room twelve, the harder her heart thumped. She was holding her breath; unaware of her face becoming splotched from the nerves.