My arms stretched out, my muscles relaxed. My hands brushed underneath something cool and soft, and my eyes flew open. I was on my back, my arms were behind me, and I was staring up at a ceiling. Turning my head, I scanned the room; a dresser at the foot of the bed with a black TV on top of it, a room at the far corner of this one which must have been a bathroom, and a table next to the bed with a paper bag and a piece of paper on top. I flipped the covers to the side and rose to my feet; my clothes were damp.
The events of last night came flooding back to me; getting punched repeatedly in the face, being held, arriving here at the motel and... My cheeks flushed at the further thought but I ignored the sudden heat and sat back down on the bed, reached across the table and snatched up the note and the bag. As I unloaded two sandwiches that smelled of sausage, cheese and egg, I read the note.
Needed to get rid of the body. Brought breakfast--hope you enjoy it. Used your phone and called your Mother. You'll be taking a trip with me for a little while. --Ethan.
Unloading my phone out of the bag, I shuddered, remembering how in a splash of red, the body collapsed in front of me. The memory was awful. But my mind switched to what he had said after. A trip...? With a murderer? Where? More importantly, why? I would ask Ethan when he got back. Murderers, I figured, were pretty planned out. But...wouldn't a murderer move the body right after the act was committed, rather than wait to move it?
The door unlocked; a green light came on, a knob turned and the door opened--Ethan came through, giving me the faintest of smiles. Pushing myself to my feet, I returned it. I had been waiting for him for the last two hours, and was relieved once he came back. Breakfast was swallowed in under five minutes, garbage was discarded, clothing was dried, bed was made and phone was pocketed. I was ready for whatever crazy, wild, screwed up trip Ethan would be dragging me on.
We left the motel with little spoken between us. Strangely, I didn't ask where he left the body. I didn't want to know, actually. A killer's business was a killer's business, I guess. What I did want an answer to was, if Ethan is a killer, a murderer, than why hasn't he killed me yet? What did he see in me that stopped him from pulling the trigger or using a knife?
~~
Very short. >_< Sorry. !!
--Allison.
