𝐓𝐰𝐨 𝐆𝐡𝐨𝐬𝐭𝐬, 𝗢𝗽𝗶𝗲 𝗪𝗶𝗻𝘀𝘁𝗼𝗻

I

It's crazy how something so simple as a phone call change your entire life.

It became the reason Amelia was currently in hour twenty six of a thirty one hour drive. A reason she was forced to sleep a few hours in sketchy roadside motels. It was also the reason she was going back to the town where apparitions of her past roamed.

"Ughh," A groan escaped her lips as she passed yet another 'Welcome to..' sign. Each passing town bringing her closer to the one she was destined for. "Shit." she whimpered, her voice becoming raspy. An orange glow illuminated the grimace on her face as the gas light came on. A distinctively annoying beeping noise nagging her to refuel the beloved El Camino.

An unplanned stop was on the horizon. Her car was old and guzzled more gas than a hobo does wine. Yet Amelia could never bring herself to get rid of it. The El Camino had a heartfelt, but nostalgic, chokehold on her.

Her tired emerald eyes scanned her surroundings. Nothing was easily discovered. Everything cloaked in a seemingly ancient layer of sand and dust. It looked liked a town that had long since been abandoned. A ruin of what once was.

Ahead was a gas station, a small beacon of hope in this barren wasteland. Even though it seemed abandoned, it was open for business. An ambience reminiscent of a horror movie pit stop.

"Jesus." She murmured, stepping across the dusty threshold. Quickly she scanned the aisles, grabbing a few bottled waters and a bag of chips. She wanted to get out of this place as fast as possible, somehow it was worse inside than out.

"Anything else?" The voice came from across the counter. Where an obviously bored teenage boy with greasy hair stood. His demeanor showing he was drained from his near solitary work conditions.

"Fifty bucks, regular, on pump two," Her focus shifted from his face to the cigarettes behind him. "And a pack of Marlboro Menthol Smooth." She added, her mouth spoke before she could think.

Smoking was a thing of the past for her. Since the phone call though, it once again became her vice.

"That will be Seventy five dollars and fifty cents." The quiet young man from behind the counter squeaked, his voice pitchy.

"Keep the change." Amelia said as she placed four twenties down on the counter. She grabbed her items and began towards the exit. Then she turned around and questioned.
"Where's the nearest hotel?" The tired brunette didn't want to stop again, but needed sleep.

Also a few hours to collect the racing thoughts in her mind wouldn't hurt either.

"About 20 miles." He answered, his voice becoming toneless. "Just keep going straight, you can't miss it."

"Thanks." She rasped. The heat was near suffocating as she stepped out of the door into the parking lot.

Amelia quickly approached the gas pump, removed the cap from the car, and began to fuel up the gas hog. After fueling up she took a seat in her car and reached for the paper bag from inside. She pulled out the cigarettes and lit one up. As she took drags off of the smooth and calming cancer stick between her fingers, she took one last look at the little ghost town around her. Hopefully this would be her last and only time there. She turned the key, put the pedal to the metal and got the hell out of dodge.

    She followed the windy, near desert highway for what felt like ages. Her headlights casting what seemed to be endless rays of light across the barren landscape. Finally she approached a small run down roadside motel in the middle of nowhere.
   
"Hotel my ass!" she exclaimed, showing complete and utter dismay at where the cashier boy had sent her.

This place was nowhere near a 5 star hotel, hell it wasn't even a 1 star. But, she needed a place to rest, and boy could she use a shower. Her El Camino slowly pulled into the lot in front of the motel.

\\\\

The Full-size bed groaned in protest as Amelia sat down on it, her hair still damp from the involuntarily cold shower. The kid wasn't lying when he said she couldn't miss this place. It stuck out like a sore thumb. The room smelled of mould, mildew and stale beer, causing her a headache. The burnt orange walls, with the wallpaper peeling, made her nauseous. She reached for her purse and retrieved the cigarettes and her cell phone.

Amelia knew she had to call him, but the anxiety was too much for her to handle. She quickly lit up a cigarette. The minty, smooth smoke filled her lungs making her calm instantly. She has to call him, there wasn't any other choice.

Her thumb hovered over the number in her recent call list, no doubt that he had called from a burner phone. It was only a phone call, why was she acting so childish? Besides he probably wouldn't even pick up. He hardly ever did.

Her chapped lips mumbled a prayer then the ringing stopped. Her heart skipped a beat. An annoying automatic voice instructed her to leave a message.

"Hey, uh, it's me. I stopped for the night at this shitty place." She paused for a moment, debating on just hanging up. She shook her head, the thought leaving her mind quickly. "I should be there no later than noon."

She placed the phone on the worn, wooden night table; narrowly avoiding a splinter. She needed something that resembled sleep to help her deal with the chaos and drama that awaited.