Cheers To Death.

Chapter 1 : The Beginning.

All was quiet in the long, shadowy halls of Hôtel De La Mort Jusqu’au Ciel — until it wasn't.

A scream in the air brought the hotel's owner, Emilie Williams, running in. She had been wanting to go the library to check upon something, but the terrified scream made all thoughts of the library fly out of her mind.

Inside Room 250 , Helena Razel was standing in front of the washroom door, only a long towel protecting her modesty. Despite this, Emilie lowered her eyes.

"What's the matter?" She asked, careful to keep distance between her and Helena. "Madame, are you alright?"

"Do I look alright?" The woman demanded, gesturing to her red face and the fact she was only wearing a bathrobe. "As for what's wrong, go into the washroom and see for yourself?"

"Ma'am, what happened?" Now Emilie was genuinely concerned.

To her surprise, Helena burst into noisy sobs.

"I— I was taking a shower, and it happened so suddenly," Helena babbled, growing more hysterical by the second, "and then, I looked at the mirror and there was a bloody handprint on the mirror and the water at my feet started turning red, and," Helena took a deep, shuddering breath. "I could've lost my life! I'll sue this hotel, it's staff, and everyone involved, this doesn't end here!"

" Ma'am, are you sure you weren't just seeing things? Do you have a history of, ah, mental complications in your family? I don't mean to come off as rude, but," Emilie smiled, a little sheepish, "perhaps you should look into it."

"I'm not delusional!" The woman shrieked, swiping at Emilie and grabbing her arm, "come — see for yourself!"

Emilie was too shocked to resist being dragged to the washroom, but she soon regained her senses. Entering through the door, she stared at the washroom.

Everything seemed to be in perfect working order. There was no blood handprint on the mirror, no stains of crimson on the floor. Only the water faucet was still running, and Emilie carefully crossed the wet threshold and turned it off, droplets splashing onto her head as she turned to look at Helena.

Just at that moment, Carl Razel decides to make his grand entrance, pausing to stare in shock at his wife in a robe, in the bathroom with the hotel owner.

"What in the world is going on?" The poor man asked, confused.

They explained. Well, Helena practically yelled the story at him, sounding hysterical, while Emilie stood there calmly, her thoughts racing.

"Is this how you treat your guests?" Helena demanded, turning on Emilie, "I don't want to stay here for even a minute,I'll be calling the police!"

With that, she turned away and stalked to the changing room, slamming the door. Carl winced.

"I'm — I'm sorry, sir. I have no idea what happened, but I apologize," Emilie was well aware she sounded bewildered, and she tried to compose herself.

"It's alright," Carl ran a hand through his greying hair, "my wife can be rather...well, dramatic at times."

"We are going to the police," Helena's hiss surprised them both, as she came out of the room looking like she was about to unleash hell onto someone. "Come on, damn it, Carl!"

"Helena, come on, we don't even have a proof, surely it's not worth going to the pol—" her husband tried to stop her, but to no avail.

"Carl Razel, you will follow me immediately and stop trying to defend this heinous manager!"

"Yes, dear," Carl murmured meekly, leaving the room with his wife.

Emilie stared at their retreating backs for a minute, before exiting after them. Autumn was standing at the door, looking pensive.

The room seemed to grow cold, the hairs at the back of Emilie's neck standing at an end. She could see Autumn was feeling the chill too, because her younger sister was shivering with cold.

Emilie made to go back into that room, but Autumn dragged her back, a pleading look on her face.

"Don't, Em, please don't," she begged, pulling Emilie away from the door. Her hands were shaking, and so was her voice, "it's — it's not safe here, you and I can both feel it. Come on, to our room, you aren't going back there, at least not yet."

"All right, all right, I won't go yet, but," Emilie warned, "I will have to, at one point."

Secretly, Emilie was glad she didn't have to go in just yet. She was still reeling with the shock of her encounter with Helena Razel, and she needed time to compose herself.

As they walked down the hallway towards their room, a note fluttered down from the Victorian style lamps that were the source of light, put up at intervals along the hallway.

Emilie bent down, as if to pull up her shoe, but when Autumn was walking ahead, she quickly grabbed up the little piece of paper.

Opening it, her eyes widened and her hand instinctively closed tighter around Autumn's wrist. Autumn, grateful for what she thought was extra reassurance, quickened her pace and said nothing, not even glancing at her sister's face.

Emilie was still staring at the paper, it's words echoing in her head.

"LET THE GAME BEGIN, CHEERS TO DEATH."