AN: A new character has been added to the story. Hint: don't trust him.
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That night, I tossed and turned in bed, constantly throwing the newly cleaned sheets off my legs, only to cover them back up again. The clock read 2:30 AM and the world outside was cold, dark, and quiet. My roommate was sleeping soundly to my left. We haven't spoken since our argument yesterday, and with the absence of Michael, I felt more alone than ever.
I tired my best to close my eyes, but every time I did I would see bad things. I would see very, very bad things. Things that one wouldn't even be able to dream of unless they've spent a fair amount of time in the Hollywood Hills Hotel: the ghosts and the demons, the torture, the secrets, the truth, the cryptic forms of possession, just to name a few.
I rolled onto my side and stared out the window above Christi's bed. When I found nothing interesting there, I flipped over so I was looking at the wall. Still, nothing could erase the dreadful images in my head.
Out of all the horrible things that I could see in the darkness, I thought about Michael the most. I hoped that he was doing okay without me, and that he wasn't lonely or anything. I hoped Al wasn't giving a hard time for letting me leave the hotel again. I just hoped he was alright, because I surely wasn't.
It's crazy, what that hotel does to people. I check in and suddenly it becomes the only thing that I can ever think about. When I'm not in that hotel, I feel like complete shit. I feel like outcast. It's almost as if, although I'm always the only mortal there, I still feel as though I belong. I've lived in California virtually my whole life, yet the only place that ever feels like home to me anymore is the Hollywood Hills Hotel.
It amazed me how it can trap people like that. In a way it really intrigued me, though I knew that it should be scaring me. I never would've expected such a place to exist, let alone one that's been doing this for over 50 years.
I wondered if there was anybody else out there that has checked in, left, and is just waiting for the day they finally find themselves back there to die. There's got to be at least a few more. I can't be the only one... can I?
I laid there in bed for what felt like forever. I was dreading the lecture I had to attend in the morning. I'm not even a Business major, yet Mrs. Stadwell is making me attend it because I've missed so much of her class. I don't know if it was her trying to help me catch up, or her bluntly punishing me for always ditching...either way, I was too exhausted to fight her on it.
Apparently some wealthy business guy was coming to preach to 300 students for an hour and a half about how to be successful in the real world, and I had literally no desire to sit there and listen to whatever he'll have to say. Right now, in my mental state, the real world just doesn't seem to exist to me. Maybe I can just sit in the back and use that time to catch up on some sleep instead.
I flipped onto my back and stared up at the ceiling, growing frustrated with myself. Why can't I sleep anymore? Why can't I, for once, just relax? I honestly couldn't remember the last time I was truly at ease and everything seemed crystal clear to me. Every since I checked into that hotel and met Michael, a lot of my life has felt like a messed up dream. And I still wasn't sure if I could consider this all a fantasy or a nightmare.
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Eventually, the sun rose behind the horizon and I was back to where I was yesterday: tired, annoyed, and unmotivated to do anything. Although I did end up falling asleep for a short time, it wasn't enough to make up for all the sleep I've lost recently. I laid in bed until the late afternoon and it was time for me to go down to the lecture hall and get this presentation over with.
