Silent Pantomime

Chapter 20 | Personal demons

Chapter 20🌌:

Did you know nine out of ten disappearances are connected to someone you know? Imagine that; you are sat in a room with ten people - and ninety percent of them could potentially have the power to kidnap you. So when people are scared to walk with a stranger or talk to someone new - what is the worst that could happen? Only ten percent of them would do something bad; it's the ones closest to you that you need to watch out for.

Don't be estranged from strangers.

Why would a stranger want to hurt you? Only the people you tell your deepest darkest secrets to know your deepest darkest secrets - or you'd hope so anyway.

Except someone was a stranger to me, but I was definitely not a stranger to them.

"Hey Hazel,
I would just like to say well done for keeping me a secret for so long. I'm honestly so proud. So very proud. But I need to ask you a favour, or not particularly ask, more tell you to do something. Because you've done so well for so long, and we wouldn't want to ruin that.

I have booked a room in that hotel downtown. You will spend three days in that room from as soon as you read this letter. Pack your bags and out the door. No family. No friends. No school. No phone. Don't tell anyone where you are going - just disappear.

Come back on Saturday morning, 9am sharp. Do not leave the room as soon as you enter it. Room service will drop off your food. I have booked it and paid for it, all you need to do is check in as Elinor Cameron. Simple as that.

You told the world that no one needed you, so why don't we do just that? Make you disappear for a while to see if anyone needs you.

What a fun little experiment.

See you in three days."

I walked down the street, my only mission to get to the hotel to get this 'experiment' over and done with. There were still barely any cars on the roads or people on the streets, the ghostly haze of murder still blanketing its surroundings. I only had a small bag with the most basic necessities and my little red lipstick. After the night before, I didn't want to let go of the lipstick that had magically found it's way to write a note on my mirror and then lay on the floor.

The note from "Lust" had coincidentally and quickly disappeared before I even had a chance to rub it off.

I hurried into the foyer to see a small room completely painted dark green with aged yellow lining paper decorating the edges. There was a front desk made of dark oak and a small bar with a grave faced bartender burning holes into my back as I walked over to check in. The carpet was old and patterned, reeking of alcohol and streaked with mud from the hundreds of passerby.

The lady at the desk was hunched over her computer, looking like a traditional mean librarian from those storybooks. I was surprised she didn't shush me as I greeted her. "Hi I have a reservation," I began.

"Name?" She snapped at me, before I could even finish my sentence.

"Elinor Cameron," I muttered and she swiftly slid a key down to my hand. Her fingers were long and bony, making the rest of her seem much older than what she probably could have been.

"Room 13, upstairs." She spat at me and I quickly muttered a thank you before I ushered myself away.

The hallway at the top of the staircase was narrow and dimly lit - surprisingly dark for a Wednesday morning. Rooms 7-13 were on this floor, mine of course having to be the furthest away from everywhere else. I slowly walked to the end and put the key in the lock to open the door. With force, I pushed the door open and walked inside.

Immediately I realised I had bitten off a lot more than I could chew. The door slammed shut and that was it, I was locked away for three full days with nothing but my thoughts to keep me company. For someone who relied on attention as a life source, I wanted to tremble at how hard it would be without that.

I laid my bag down on the bed with the springs visibly popping out of it and I turned on the Freeview TV. It was small and old fashioned, making me regret not packing any DVDs. I gulped and looked up at the ceiling, with mildew climbing to it all the way from the floor and with its cheap paint chipped away. The walls were cracked and the wallpaper was faded and ripped in areas. The bed was cold, lumpy and hard which would make it difficult to sleep. The person who had made me come had awful taste, or desperately wanted me to tell everybody about them.

I sighed thinking about the letters and the blackmail, no matter how awful it was, I would have to go the three days without the clockwork attention. Trying to take my mind off it, I pulled my focus to the television which was showing some eight year old gameshow rerun. At some point I got really into it and laid down, yelling at Miranda for gambling all of the money.

I watched show after show after show, no matter how boring and how it was nothing compared to Sky or Netflix - it was better than anything else. I had no one to talk to, no form of communication, and it was better than having to clean the hellhole.

A few minutes into Celebrity Catchphrase, a loud bang on the door interrupted me - "Room service!" A husky voice called. I felt my stomach churn at the idea of food, but as I stared at the door it suddenly seemed too far away.

I could eat tomorrow, right? No one was there to judge me. The door banged again and I groaned the same time as my stomach. "You shut up," I whispered and pointed to my stomach before yelling, "Not today thank you!" I heard a small grumble from the other side before soft footsteps stomped away.

As the show ended I looked at my unpacked bag and the tenebrous en-suite. I didn't need to unpack or shower today; no one needed had to see me. It would be my own little secret with myself. I laid further back in my bed, that I had grown accustomed to with its uncomfortableness; drowning out any need for attention with too long-lived soap operas.

As it grew darker I realised there was no point turning off the lampshade as it was already too dim anyway. My eyes were getting heavier so I didn't bother changing into any pyjamas, I just kicked off my shoes and hid under the blanket.

I stared up at the single glazed window that was settled with mist and sighed. In the faintness of the room I caught a glimpse of silvery writing smudged in the condensation.

"Sloth says hi."

Three simple words, but instead of the panicked build up of anticipation to check it out like any sane person would - I simply shut my eyes.

We all must have our own personal demons.