The Confession Of Zakary Jameson

Chapter 23

Zakary Jameson

I slowly came to lying on the floor, which was still coated in shattered glass, of my motel room feeling very strange.

I opened my lead-heavy dark eyelids to find that my vision had gone dark around the edges, like there was a creeping darkness in my peripheral vision. The dark room around me was slowly spinning, moving, throbbing. It was impossible to focus on any one thing without splitting pain searing in my right temple.

As I sat up, holding my head in one hand and feeling like I was on a lifeboat in the middle of a hurricane, I realized that I didn't remember what had happened. Fear gripped my stomach, causing it to feel tight and uncomfortable. Amnesia? That was new...

The ugly burgundy curtains that were draped in front of the windows were slightly see-through, which defeated their purpose. The weak light that was visible through them suggested that it was early morning. Maybe seven or eight.

Suddenly, there was a quick knock on the motel room door, startling me.

"Sir?" A man's voice called, the sound causing my head to spin even more. "You were supposed to check out at seven. We have another couple waitin' for your room."

I checked my watch. It was almost 8:30. With a groan, I used the bed to raise myself to my feet, almost losing my balance. I rubbed my eyes, held my head, and began to stagger drunkenly towards the door. Not thinking, I unchained and swung open the door.

A motel employee, the manager maybe, stood right outside my door. He was around forty years old with thin brown hair that was graying around the temples. He wore an old-school looking suit and tacky tie and a name tag that said 'Gordon.' His green eyes met mine and widened in surprise.

"Oh, my. Sir, are you alright?" He asked. I winced and blinked a few times quickly, failing to get my eyes to focus.

"Erm. I just need like an hour more of rest, if that's possible." I muttered, moving my eyes away from his gaze.

My motel room was on the second floor of a two-story building in the shape of a U. The outdoor covered hallways and staircases allowed for a perfect view -and smell- of the pool, which every door was facing. If I stood on the railing in front of the door and jumped, I would land in the shallow end of the empty pool.

Gordon eyes me strangely, then looked past me into my messy hotel room.

"What happened in there?" He questioned me, meaning the glass that had rained down like powdered snow on the dark carpet. I glanced over my shoulder, using the doorframe to stabilize myself.

"Nothing. Why don't you leave?" I asked him, getting a bit annoyed. Gordon scoffed.

"Sir, I own this establishment. I can't just let people stay as long as they want when I have tired customers trying to get a room. Why don't you leave?"

There was a long silence as we studied each other. After a few seconds, he grew a little uneasy, and his eyes dropped to the ground. I smirked and put my hands on my hips, resting on my leather belt. I leaned forward a little.

"Do you know who I am?" I asked quietly. Gordon shook his head, not looking at me. I slowly slapped a hand onto his shoulder.

"Really?"

Gordon sighed. "Sir, you really need to leave. I-" He met my eyes again and stopped talking mid-sentence. A look of horror replaced his neutral expression. "Oh my."

He recognized me. I tightened my grip on his shoulder, stepped back, and heaved him into the motel room. The door slammed shut behind us.

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