** COMPLETED **
It's been years since the fire that killed most of her family, but Amara Hale has been able to move on as much as she can. But it seems like the past always has to come back at some point. Some times the past can come back slowly...
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Chapter Thirty ⊚ Motel California ⊚
The school bus rumbles into the parking lot of the Glen Capri motel, doors swinging open and Coach and his Cross Country team disembark. An exhausted Scott and Stiles step out, followed by Allison, Lydia, Amara, Isaac and Boyd. "I've seen worse." Scott shrugged and he glanced around making Stiles and Amara look at him crazy, "Where have you seen worse?"
A whistle blows and Coach holds up a handful of room keys in front of the gathering students. "Listen up! The meet's been pushed 'til tomorrow. This is the closest motel with the most vacancies and the least amount of good judgement when it comes to accepting a bunch of degenerates like yourselves! You'll be pairing up- choose wisely. And I'll have no sexual perversions perpetrated by you little deviants! Got that? Keep your dirty little hands to your dirty little selves!"
Amara stood next to Lydia as they both looked up at the motel with a concerned look. Both of them had a bad feeling about the place. "Amara, Lydia?" Allison asked looking at them with raised eyebrows, "I don't like this place." Lydia said and Amara nodded in agreement. "I don't think the people who own this place like this place. It's just for a night." Allison chuckled and Amara raised her eyebrows slightly. "A lot can happen in one night." She mumbled and her and Lydia glanced at each other before reluctantly following Allison.
⊚
Dropping a stack of towels onto the front desk, Lydia and Amara leans across the counter to the desk clerk, an older woman turned toward a TV. "Excuse me? The card on the dresser says we have a non-smoking room, but somehow all our towels reek of nicotine." Lydia said making the lady turn around revealing a permanent tracheostomy tube in her throat, "Sorry about that, sweethearts." She said.
"Now we know where the smell is coming from." Amara muttered making Lydia pitch her arm even though Desk Clerk seemed to not hear as she grabs the towels, "What's that? That number?" Lydia asked making Amara follow her gaze at the wall that had a frame with the numbers "198" inside, "It's kind of an inside thing for the motel. My husband insists on keeping it up." The lady said making Amara furrow her brows.
"What do you mean?" She asked, "It's a little bit morbid, to be honest... You sure you want to know?" The lady asked and Lydia nodded. "Tell us." She said and the lady leaned in closer, "We're not gonna make the top of anyone's list when it comes to customer satisfaction..." She said and Amara raised her eyebrows and nodded slightly.
"Obviously."
"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." She said making the girl's eyes widen as they glanced at each other, "One hundred and ninety-eight?" Amara asked and the lady smiled.
