(Formerly known as "When Our Paths Crossed")
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A tale of two lost souls brought together by pain, grief and trauma.
Atlas tries to find a place in a world he's worked so hard to escape. Elijah struggles to balance the life he's building and the...
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THE HOTEL IS just as dingy as the bar and reeks of sour onions and mildew. I doubt this place has been redecorated since the seventies, with its ugly patterned, yellow wallpaper and rough, worn orange shag carpet. That's probably the most revolting part because who knows what we're walking on. It's like the kind of place you'd find in a horror movie, complete with a flickering light on the opposite end of the hall from the elevator.
This was where Dan spent a lot of his time. He'd never told me where he was whenever he was before crashing at my place, but he always said the same thing. Relax, I have places to go, Eli. I wish he'd meant a friend's couch or something, rather than this hotel.
Room 215 is at the end of the hall. Many of the rooms seem occupied—a loud, action-packed movie blasts in Room 210. A woman moans in pleasure from Room 212, and I'm pretty sure I hear the thumping of music in Room 214.
Atlas moves down the hall without a care, but I can't help but focus on every sound and smell. As if I'm trying to figure out what Dan saw in this place.
Rudy's comment about keeping the room open for Dan when he had nowhere else to go stings. Dan had me. He always had me, no matter how much he pissed me off.
"You're a fucking piece of shit, you know that?" I snapped. "I was so close to getting in, and you had to go and ruin it!"
"I didn't mean to," Dan whispered. He looked like a wounded animal. A tired, strung out, wounded animal. "I only wanted to see your performance--"
"So, what, you thought getting high and disrupting my performance was going to work?" I threw my tie onto my kitchen counter and glared at my brother. "What is wrong with you? Why are you fucking yourself up like this? Why are you fucking me over like this?"
Dan had stepped back, his look growing dark. If I hadn't been as angry as I was, I would have felt bad. His eyes were haunted by unseen torture. His sharp, clever mind was too much for him to bear, and our parents' constant pressure didn't help.
"You won't have to worry about me fucking anything up ever again," he'd said, turning to the door. "I have somewhere else to sleep, so don't worry about me, Eli."
I wanted to scream at him, to tell him, "good, you'd better leave," but all I felt was hollow and dried up of any words. I could only silently watch him retreat, and then I'd only seen him one last time a few weeks ago on the day he died.
Atlas was right. This hotel was the furthest thing Dan could get from our life as possible. Our parents would ever think to look for him here. It was the kind of place my mom would think should be condemned and cleansed of evil. But it as Dan's retreat, his hideaway and, as we came to a stop in front of Room 215, I reached out and brushed the wooden door. My brother's room.
"You sure you want to do this?" Atlas asks, handing me the key. "I can go in, and you can wait out here."
"No." I slide the key into the lock. "I have to do this." Besides, like hell was I going to wait in the hallway from the Shining.
