Chapter 6
We pulled up to the motel called The Glen Capri and calling it a dump was a understatement. I had my black duffel bag attached to my shoulder standing next to Scott and Stiles. “I've seen worse.” I say optimistically. Scott and Stiles both look at me since I was in the middle of them. “Where have you seen worse?” Stiles questions.
I'm about to answer when Coach blows his whistle, again the whistle is really starting to get to me. “Listen up. The meet's been pushed till tomorrow. This is the closest motel with the most vacancies and least amount of good judgment when it comes to accepting a bunch of degenerates like yourselves. You'll be pairing up. Choose wisely.” I walk up to Coach and grab a key for a room that I'm sharing with Allison and Lydia. “And I'll have no sexual perversions perpetrated by you little deviants. Got that? Keep your dirty little hands to your dirty little selves!”
Lydia and I stand side by side my arms crossed my eyes locked on the motel. “Lydia? Macy?” Allison asks. “I don't like this place.” Lydia states. “I don't think the people who own this place like this place. It's just for a night.” Allison replies. “A lot can happen in one night.” I mutter.
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Allison sent Lydia and I to get new towels for the room because ours reeked of smoke and it was disgusting. Lydia wanted me to tag along because in this motel the buddy system is the best way to make sure no one get's slashed up and attacked.
Lydia carried the towels while I walked next to her with a overwhelming feeling of dread and I kept thinking of what Isaac said to me. 'Don't hide my battle scars' how did he know how I got these? “Macy?” I snap back to reality. “Huh, yeah?” “I said does the motel creep you out?” Lydia asks while holding half of the towels and I hold the other half. I nod. “Yeah, I just feel like something bad is gonna happen.” She nods. “Me too.”
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We walk up to the front desk, well Lydia struts up and I walk. An old women has her back to us. I put the towels on the desk. My eyes dart to the number on the wall 198. I wonder what that means. It can't a a year there's only three digits. Lydia is the first to speak to the graying women. “Um, excuse me? The card on the dresser says we have a non-smoking room, but somehow all of our towels reek of nicotine.” The women turns around and the creepy factor of this place skyrocketed. The women had a tube stuck in her throat she could breath. Well so that was why the towels reeked of nicotine.
“Sorry about that, girls.” The women says her voice raspy. My eyes dart back to the number. “What's that? That number?” I question. “It's a kind of inside thing for the motel. My husband insists on keeping it up.” “What do you mean?” I ask cocking my head slightly. “It's a bit morbid, to be honest. You sure you want to know?” Lydia and I share a look. “Tell us.” We say in complete unison.
“We're not gonna make the top of anyone's list when it comes to customer satisfaction.” She starts. “Obviously.” Lydia mutters. “But we are number one in California when it comes to one disturbing little detail. Since opening more than any other motel in California, we have the most guest suicides.” My blood turns to ice and my gaze flicks back to the number. “198.” I mutter. “And coming.” The women starts cackling.
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Lydia and I sprinted back into the motel room where Allison was drying her hair with a towel. “198?” Allison asks. “Yes. And we're talking 40 years. On average, that's 4.95 a year, which is actually expected.” Lydia replies from the bed. I sit on the bed with a notebook drawing a spiral of fireflies coming out of a tree stump and thinking about Derek, could he really be dead? Why couldn't he just listen to me? I then snap back into the conversation. “But who commemorates that with a framed number? Who does that? Who?” I ask. “All suicides?” Allison questions. “Yes. Hanging, throat-cutting, pill popping, both-barrels-of-a-shotgun-in-the-mouth suicides.” I state. While not looking up from my drawing. “I don't know about you two, but me, I...” Lydia trails off and I look up when I hear someone's voice through the wall.
“Which... Which one do you want?” A strange male voice asks.
I look over at Lydia. “Did you hear that?” I ask softly. “Hear what?” Allison asks. While Lydia nods slowly.
“I don't know. The smaller one, I guess.” The women replies.
“It's okay. Smaller's better. There's less kick.”
I drop my sketch book then stand up on the bed and Lydia follows in suit.
“I'll chamber the round. All right, so...” The man says.
“Wait, wait. When do I... I mean, do you count?” The women says.
“Yeah, yeah, I'll... I'll count to three.”
“So after three or on three?”
My hand goes to my mouth are they planning their suicide?
“You tell me.” The man says.
I start shuddering in panic. Oh, my God. We have to stop them.
“One, two... then pull the trigger.” The women says.
“Oh my God.” I mutter.
“I love you.”
“I love you, too.”
“One, two...”
The gun then goes off. I jump back with my hand going to my mouth. “What is it, Macy? Lydia? What happened?” Allison asks. We didn't stop them we heard them and we didn't stop them. I whirl around to look at Allison. “Didn't you hear that?” Lydia asks. “Hear what?” Allison asks. I let out a gasp how did she not hear that? “The two people in the other room, they shot each other.” I reply while running to the door to the other room. “Macy?” Allison asks. I yank the door open. Lydia follows me.
“Hello?” I ask. The room is pitch black. I group the wall for the light switch. It doesn't turn on. I walk into the room my hands shaking. Lydia walks behind me and grabs my hand. “Macy, Lydia what are you guys doing?” Allison asks.
I walk more and more into the room. “Hello?” Lydia calls. Lydia reaches out and finds a spot light. She flicks it on. There's nothing in here, it's under renovation then how did I hear the voices, how did Lydia and I both hear the voices?
“It had to be right here.” I defend looking at Allison. I'm not crazy am I? “It was a guy and a girl, and they sounded younger, but... They were here.” Lydia adds. “I believe you. After everything we've been though I believe you both.” Allison says. I let out a sigh. My eyes then focus on the wood paneling. I start to hear whispering that I can't make out. Then it turns into screaming.
+
“You know, there is something seriously wrong with this place. We need to get out of here.” I say while Lydia and I grab our stuff and start packing. “But they were suicides, not murders, and it's not like this place is haunted, right?” Allison asks. “Maybe it is. You know, I bet that couple made their suicide pact in that very room.” Lydia replies. “Maybe that's why they're renovating. Maybe they've been scraping brain matter off the wood paneling.” I add while gesturing widely. “Maybe we should find out.” Allison suggests.
+
Lydia and I took Allison back to the office to see the old women about the number and get more information when this time she isn't here and the number is higher. “Well, there goes that.” Lydia mutters. “Wasn't it 198 last time?” I ask Lydia. “It was 198. I swear to God it was 198.” Lydia says which sounds more like a plea. “Okay, what does that mean, that there's been three more suicides?” Allison questions. “Or three more about to happen.” I reply.
Okay so we are getting to the really good stuff here guys I am so excited for the next few parts of this episode cause more *whispers banshee stuff* for Macy that I'm super excited about and then the chapter after all the motel california stuff will reveal more about Macy. So be ready for that and for those who are reading The Hale Sister I will be trying to update that tomorrow so fingers crossed.
That's all for now, hope you enjoy
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Battle Scars >>Teen Wolf
Fanfiction"Scars don't kill you they make you stronger" Macy has just moved to Beacon Hills with her foster family and when living in a town like this it's hard not to get involved in the supernatural, but when she does she finds strength and maybe love, whic...
