Heartbreak At Motel 7!

Chapter 2

After roughly twenty minutes of driving swirled in with cussing at other drivers and talk that barely qualified as conversation, we made it to the club.

Surprise surprise, it was overwhelmingingly full.

We ended up having to park at the motel right across the street.

MOTEL 7 was embodied in the form of a pink neon sign that shone dimly and looked nearly fizzed out, making an annoying vibrating sound and periodically splashing with sparks.

The motel was styled in the same way that the sign was.
Run down, out of place and the signature pink accompanied with splashes of white.

You would swear that the place was deserted if it weren't for the vintage green Ford and a sleek black motorcycle that looked insanely out of place in comparison to how run down the building was.

We stumbled out of the car, knocking into each other and yelling obnoxiously about what a good night we were about to have.

We probably seemed really annoying and like typical teenage douchebags to any onlookers but tonight wasn't about them.
It also definitely wasn't meant to be about Elijah pulling out his pocket knife or Wyatt getting into a drunken fist fight with any of these said onlookers.

"I wanna get wasted, dude let's fucking go!" were Wyatt's words before we finally stepped into the club after getting past the bouncer.

Immediately, it felt like I stepped into a poorly written fever dream.

My ears were inconveniently filled with the sounds of men cheering which clashed with the loud music that seemed to only have one consistent beat. Who the fuck produced this shit?

Lights flashed rapidly enough to send a person with even the tamest case of epilepsy into a seizure.
If you squinted for even half a second, you would be sure to see someone either chugging a bottle of alcohol, smoking weed or snorting thin lines of cocaine. Must be the expensive kind seeing as they're being so fucking stingy with their distribution system.

And of course, the most obvious thing that you could see without even having to squint your eyes or turn your head, was women.
Lots and lots of women either half naked, fully naked or getting naked. Almost all of them dancing, if they weren't seated in the calmer looking social area talking to customers.

I stiffened, suddenly feeling very out of place. Unfortunately, Wyatt immediately clocked my change in demeanor.

"Charlie c'mon bro. I've seen that look before, don't give me that look!" he shook me gently by my shoulders.
"What look?" I played dumb.
"You know what I'm talking about! We'll be okay, okay? If you get uncomfortable," his speech started to slur as his eyes almost rolled to the back, "We can like, totally just leave!"

He didn't wait for my answer. Instead, he pulled me along like a child dragging around their overused and tired out rag doll.
I chose not to say anything.
I allowed him to do as he pleased as he pulled me to the calmer side of the club where the only lights were a mixture of black, white, pink and purple and seating was more readily available.

I began to scan the room.
The alcohol in my system, albeit not that much, eased my nerves ever so slightly.
At the very least, I wanted to be aware of my surroundings especially in a place that looked like a breeding ground for all kinds of shady shit.

My eyes slowly scanned every piece of the room that it could.
That was where it all started, because of my curiousity and paranoia filled state and my need to be able to know who was around me at all times.

That was when I saw her for the very first time.
She was stood with her back against the bottom of the stage with two or three men, sipping a glass of what appeared to be red wine.