Don't Sleep In Room 13

Chapter 7: Just Close Your Eyes

  The sound of non stop notifications dinging on Randalls phone put him in a panic, his eyes opened. There he laid in the motel bed, no blankets on, fully clothed, Mildly incoherent and cold. It seemed the air condition had been left on for quite sometime the way Randalls breath hazed the air.  DING the phone went off again.

Randall grabbed the cellphone from the night table.There were 10 missed calls and 5 text messages from his ex-wife Charlie.
The following are the text messages he received.
"Where are you?"
"You were supposed to be back yesterday."
"RANDALL!!! WHERE ARE YOU?"
"Ok never-mind I'll figure it out like always."
"She's gonna be here any minute, I need you here."

What the hell is going on, Randall said to himself confused as his eyes scoured the room not sure what might happen next.

"What do you mean where am I? Are you okay? You told me not to come back until I was clean." Read Randalls text message before he hit the send button.

The phone started searching for signal, the bars in the top left corner of the phone were altering in height  as the reception was scrambling to find connect to a strong frequency, and just before it was about to send the reception signal died.

"Fuck, Fuck FUCK, This can't be happening right now."

Randall started to power send a bunch of messages in hopes that one would get through to Charlie.
"I miss you so much, I hope everything is okay"
"Are you okay?"
"I tried calling, there's no reception."
"I love you so much, just know that."
"I want our life back."
"If you get this I'm at The Motel Rouge in Fleet."

None of the text messages were received and the signal was as dead as a doornail.

"You have got to be fucking kidding me." Randall screamed at the top of his lungs.

Randall put his phone in his pocket and walked around the motel room with suspicion, making his way to the washroom where the horrific events took place —in his mind just moments ago. Firstly the carpet in front of the washroom appeared to have been washed, not a speck of blood lingered in the follicles of the carpet. Randall crouched onto his knees and placed his face close to the carpet giving it a nice whiff. It smelled of resolve laundry detergent, it must be the cheap way of cleaning the carpets in this type of joint. He looked over at the bathroom door and not a chip was taking out of it —- it appeared brand new, a beautiful cherry wood finish. Randall violently knocked on the bathroom door.

"IS ANYBODY IN THERE?"

He banged a few more times before opening the door to an empty clean bathroom. No blood on the floor, no writing on the mirror. It was exactly how he had it set up when got there. Randalls patience and bravery starts to run thin, a small panic engulfed with rage.

"CAN ANYBODY HEAR ME?, IF SOMEONE IS WATCHING ME THIS ISN'T FUCKING FUNNY!" Randall screams as he repeatedly slams his hands on the bathroom counter violently.

"COME GET ME! I FUCKING DARE YOU," Randal yells again while sneaking to the hallway door of the room. He rips the door open hoping to reveal the blood stained carpet and brain matter splatters on the back end of the door —and... nothing, just an empty hallway with clean carpets and cherry wood doors with beautiful craftsmanship.

"WHAT DO YOU WANT FROM ME?" He yelled down the hallway as he closed the door.  Randall looked out the window facing the parking lot. The rain was coming down just as hard as before, but he noticed something outside, A man he's never seen before standing in the rain right underneath the overflowing eavestrough  outside the front lobby.  Randall put on his coat and walked purposely toward the man. The sound of a single note being played on a harmonica passed through the raindrops as the man held it against his pale white lips.  His black cowboy hat flooding on the curved ends of the brim from he overflow of the troughs, leading down his long black trench coat soaking through to his white dress-shirt. This man surely should have been cold.