Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
HADLEY didn't understand what she was doing. She sat on the edge of a balcony, just overlooking the entrance of the Cortez. She found herself spending her whole day here, watching the small amount of guests filter in and out of the hellmouth, until she finally got the urge to fall asleep.
Her feet would dangle off the edge, hitting the old concrete that held up the building, as she leaned back on her elbows and just stared down. Hadley wondered if anyone saw her up there and questioned if they should call the police, thinking that she was contemplating suicide. But if she wanted to kill herself, she would've done that a long time ago, and it definitely wouldn't be from jumping off a balcony. A swift, silver bullet to the head could do the job just fine.
She told herself that she now hung around this part of the hotel to avoid Elizabeth, but that was believing a lie. She knew why she was there, peering down at the double doors, and it felt so wrong.
The group of boys left the Cortez around the same time each night, and usually, if she was lucky to still be awake, came back by two AM at the latest. The shift in attitude between each time stamp was ridiculous. They left the Cortez nudging each other, laughing at some cruel joke, but the second they returned, the boys were a fumbling, drunken mess. Except for the tallest boy, the one with dark honey-colored locks. He kept to himself, casually commenting on his friends' stupid conversations, and he was always the one to be dragging the others back to the hotel at night, despite his own tipsiness.
They were fascinating. Hadley didn't understand why, but they were. It made her hesitate on killing them – until she finally decided to venture into her room after a few days, during one of their bar outings.
The suite was absolutely trashed. Clothes were strewn in various places, hanging off random knobs and hooks. Her own clothes and toiletries were left untouched in their proper places, but the room was now littered with items made for men. A box of condoms was left open on one of the bedside tables. She found toothpaste stains on the sink, as well as bottles of Jack Daniels and Crown Royal near the bureau.
Hadley was beyond feeling angry. She was absolutely, fucking livid. This was her room. Room 66 had always been her room. It was a joke between her and Donovan, who gave her this suite on behalf of the Countess because he thought it could represent Hell. Sometimes, he liked to call her, Hades. Room 66 was her own personal Underworld.
But these people – these boys – had ruined it. She should've never hesitated to kill them, to suck them dry as if they were all just sand particles from the Sahara desert. It was a big mistake on her part. She shouldn't have gone against her better judgment. But now that she could admit her wrongdoings, she knew what she had to do.
It would probably be wise to kill them first, Liz's voice echoed in her head.
As Hadley took one last look at her messy room, she released a disgusted grunt, wondering if she should call over Mrs. Evers to clean up the place. But then she had an idea – an absolutely wonderous idea on how she could kill the boys – and it was going to be messy.
