A day passed. Then two. And a third. On the third day, the residents of Hotel OJ had decided they would get the bravery to venture down the stairs. The hotel was once again spewing with life, the usual chatter of objects filling it's walls, albeit with a lower volume than usual. What exactly had made them gain the confidence to come back down was unknown, however most took OJ's influence as enough to do it. They admired his strength, and ability to push through the hard times.
The only object that still refused to come down was Pepper. In fact, she hadn't even left the hotel in the past three days. Not after what she had seen outside, which she was still trying to wrap her head around. She spent most of her time in her room, and since she had a bathroom in there, she only left to get food. However she would only grab something small quickly, as if she was in a hurry to get back up as fast as she could.
Soap was busy in the kitchen, not cleaning for once, instead she was preparing a meal. It was no secret that Soap was a good, no, a great cook. She really had a knack for it. She took advantage of the fact that the objects had finally all come out of their rooms to surprise them with one big meal. She thought it would be helpful in calming everyone's nerves.
The big pot sat atop the stove, sizzling and bubbling. She smiled as she cut vegetables like carrots and corn and threw them into the pot. The smell was heavenly, and she was sure that the warm soup would help everyone take their mind off of everything that was happening. She momentarily forgot her recipe, and went to seek out the necessary ingredients. She picked up the oil from a tin and put it in the pot-
Oops. The lid fell off, emptying almost the entire container in the pot. The sizzling came to a boil, bringing up the heat to a max.
"Oh- shit!"
Soap cursed under her breath. Great, it was ruined. Just like everything else. No, no. She assured herself she could still salvage this. Just like OJ was trying to salvage the spirits of their fellow friends, she could fix a simple pot of soup.
Trophy still had not gotten out of his bed. Tissues, awoken by the sweet scent of Soap's cooking, was just about to go downstairs, but he stopped and turned to face Trophy.
"Awre you coming down?"
He asked. Trophy just shook his head.
"Youw know, some good fowd could help yow feel better."
Trophy didn't answer. Tissues shook his head and opened the door to leave.
"Fine, stay thew all yew need, but I suggest yew think about how it wasnt yow fault."
The second he looked up, Tissues was gone. He thought again and again about the words Tissues had just said. He must have been sitting up in bed for a good 20 minutes, staring at the door. He should really try to get up. But, why should he? And really, it was his fault. No matter how much he hated Salt, he never wanted her to suffer. He didn't think he would feel this awful about Salt, of all people. But, he would have to move past this. Maybe this was karma, for how he's treated everyone so badly before. He was an asshole,and he was getting what he deserved. Still, he wanted to try. Maybe, just this once. He would show that he was the bigger person. That he wanted to be better.
He threw the covers off his bed and sat on the side. He took a quick look down at his legs. Of course, they still had cuts on them, some being bandaged up. Soap had been the kind soul to help him with that. He decided that she would be the first first person he'd talk to when he got down. Hell, he already knew she was the one cooking that amazingly smelling food, which he really wanted to try. He stood up, albeit a bit shakily. He groaned, holding the side of one of his legs. Seemed like they still hurt. However bad it hurt, he was still determined to go downstairs.
He opened the door and went through the hallway. It was completely empty, as he had expected. He kept a steady pace as he made his way through, only stopping just before the stairs. He looked at the door to a certain room, that being Salt and Pepper's room. He wanted to see if she was in there, but he decided against it at the last minute. First, tackle this task. Then try to apologize.
He stood at the top of the stairs, motionless. He analyzed his way down, each stair and step. But what was he doing?? It was just a staircase. No need to get so worked up. It was what happened here that made him nervous. But he'd have to do it sooner or later.
He put one foot on the first step. He shakily clung to the railing, as if he was already scared of messing up. Nobody would be there to catch him, and he'd join Salt.
No, no. He couldn't think like that. Just go down. Move. But his body wouldn't respond. He just stood there, shaking in place. He felt like a coward. Like he couldn't do anything but stand there forever. He wanted to cry, cry and run back to his room and never come back out.
His thoughts were interrupted by a pair of arms holding him at the waist, as if holding him up for support. He flinched in surprise and turned around. He had to look down to meet the eyes of his holder.
"..Cheesy?"
The short yellow object gave him a soft smile.
"Heya, Trophy. I was just coming down when I noticed you were having trouble. Mind if I help ya down?"
He considered taking Cheesy's offer. But he shook his head.
"No. I can get down myself."
Cheesy raised an eyebrow in confusion.
"Are ya sure? You don't seem to have a real handle on it!"
Knee slap. Trophy gave him a tired and angry look. One that said "now really isn't the time, asshole." Cheesy noticed his joke may have been badly timed and he shrunk back awkwardly.
"Hah..ha. Sorry, I just wanted to lift your spirits up. Though I'm not sure why that would help, you never liked my jokes..I'm sorry."
Cheesy took his arms off of him, walking the rest of the way downstairs. The second he lost that support, Trophy trembled again. He was wrong, he couldn't get down on his own. But he didn't want to ask for help again. And yet, his fear overtook his pride.
"CHEESY!! Cheesy- Please come back! I can't.. I-"
He started, and not even a moment later the block of cheese was back, running up the stairs to hold him up.
He smiled as he aided Trophy down another step, as slowly as he could. Trophy, still scared, held on tighter, the fear of falling greater than it was before.
"You're going too fast! We're gonna-!"
"No, we're not. Trust me! See? We're almost at the bottom. You're doing well!"
Sure enough, just as Cheesy finished speaking, they made it to the bottom of the stairs. Trophy looked up, surprised at how quick the descent had been. He looked back at Cheesy, a smile stretched across his face.
"Thank you! I- Well I couldn't have gotten down..On my own. Thanks."
He admitted. While he had never liked admitting his gratitude, he was extremely grateful to Cheesy. He made a mental note that he would return the favor to him someday. Cheesy scratched the back of his head, looking off to the side.
"Aw shucks, Trophy! It's no big deal. What was I supposed to do? Leave you there stranded? You'd help me too, right?"
He said, unsure of himself. Trophy cringed.
"You thought I would've helped you? I've never exactly been..The kindest person to you, Cheesy. Is that really why you helped me, or do you just want something in return?"
Cheesy shook his head.
"Nope, I just wanted to help. I just felt like it!"
He didn't expect that at all. In fact, he'd expected Cheesy to laugh at him, with his typical annoying laugh, and leave him there alone. Did he pity him too, like Tissues did? Whatever it was, he was grateful for Cheesy's presence.
"Ooooh.. Do you smell that??"
"Huh?"
"That food! Soap must be cookin up something good! Wanna sit with me at lunch?"
He asked. Trophy nodded quickly, his answer immediate.
"Yes! I mean yeah! I'd love to."
"Haha! Wonderful, let see what this Soap- what this soup...Uh..I don't have a joke for this.. I'll get back to you later on that."
Trophy slapped his knee jokingly.
"I'll be there to heckle you for it."
Cheesy laughed at his response and promptly ran to the kitchen, most likely to see if lunch was ready.
Trophy couldn't help but feel happy, and just maybe, he hoped that they could even become friends. Maybe something good actually came out of this tragedy after all. So it wouldn't all just be bad memories, there was Cheesy. And now, there was going to be a piping hot meal, ready to be enjoyed in the company of a new friend. As dumb and cheesy as it sounded, he couldn't wait for an excuse to talk to that block of cheese again. In fact, he was looking forward to it.
The twin cherries were already waiting at the table, expecting their food. They were just small enough to occupy one chair, so space was never an issue. The long, long dining table was set for each resident of the hotel. However, one of the cherrie's attention was drawn to a particular seat at the table.
"Reese? What are you looking at?"
Cher asked, a worried tone in his voice. His twin was looking somberly at the pair of empty seats.
"This is going to be so bad, right? It's way too soon to act like everything's normal."
She answered. The other cherry shook it's head.
"But why not? We all gotta try and be brave. We can't be scared and locked up in our rooms, scared of getting hurt. If we all have lunch together, we can reconnect, like a family!"
He smiled. Reese was far less amused, shaking her head.
"We're not a family, we just happen to live in the same place."
"Like a family!"
"No! Not like that!"
Cher shrunk back in their seat. Reese bit her lip, not having intended to yell at him like that. She gently ruffled the leaf on his head.
"I just- look, I don't want anything else to happen."
"I know. That's why this is gonna be great! You know nobody can resist Soap's cooking. Everybody's gonna be too busy eating to do anything wrong."
"I guess you're right.."
She resigned. The other cherry jumped out of it's seat and pointed to the kitchen.
"Wanna take a peek at what she's making? It's better than sitting alone at this table."
"Hm...Okay!"
Reese answered. It was true, Soap's cooking was amazing, almost heavenly. She couldn't help but wait to get a taste of it early.
They both snuck into the kitchen, waiting by the doorframe. There they saw Soap, struggling with her pot of soup.She was mumbling and cursing under her breath. Not only that, but the good smell of the food had turned into the sharp sting of cooking oil. The cherries covered their non-existent noses from the smell.
"Oughhh... what happened?" Cher whispered.
"I think she messed it up.." Reese answered. Both cherries shook their heads in dismay.
"We should just leave her to fix it." Reese told her sibling. He nodded in agreement.
Just as they were about to leave, Cher's foot slipped and he fumbled before clinging to his sibling. She looked down to see what it was he had slipped on: A blue rag. Not any blue rag, but it was Soaps usual cleaning parchment. Reese picked it up and looked at it closely. It was wet and soapy, and it still smelled of dish soap.
"Ooh, Soap. Pick up your stuff after you use it!" She said to nobody in particular, almost as if she was scolding the rag. Cher looked at them both.
"Should we give it back to her?" They asked. Reese looked at him.
"We'll just put it back on the counter for her."
The cherries moved in unison through the door frame, not greeting Soap, since she was so fixated on the meal. Not wanting to disturb her, Reese just tossed the rag behind her, hoping it would land on the counter. It fell behind her and landed with a soapy plop. Assuming this meant the target landed where it was supposed to, she smiled and kept on walking. Neither of them noticed that the rag had actually fallen to the floor, sopping wet, making the floor into a slippery trap.
Soap was convinced at this point that there was no way to fix this meal. It was just a sizzling pot of oil at this point, and there wasn't any fixing it. She felt as though she'd failed, failed to bring the peace back to the hotel.
No, no. It was still possible. All she'd have to do is restart. It was easier than continuing to feed the burning pot. Being so close to it for so long had made her face feel hot, when she would press her hand against her cheek she could feel the heat.
She stood back, taking two oven mitts to protect her hands from the heat. She took the sides of the pot, holding it away from her body. She intended to take it to the sink to drain it, then refill it to finish the meal once and for all. One step after another. She wobbled as her legs teetered dangerously, then landed back to the safety of the floor. One step, then another, then another.
Then, her foot touched something. Something that wasn't the dry cold floor. It was wet, and it was slippery.
Soap's eyes widened, and before she could process it, her foot slipped on the parchment, sending her falling to the ground, and tossed the pot of oil up into the air instinctively. As she was falling, she set her arms back, as if to catch her in the fall. However, terror gripped Soap from every angle as she looked up. That sizzling, burning pot of oil had overturned itself, its boiling liquid now mere inches away from her face, as it flew towards her. All she could do was move her arms in order to protect her face from the heat, as she, the pot, and the oil all landed on the floor of the kitchen. It completely covered her lower half, bathing her in the boiling oil. As she raised her hands up to look, the plastic on her body stung and burned, and her skin felt as though it would melt off.
Soap's screams were the only noise that filled the hotel. The acoustics in the kitchen allowed the noise to travel farther than it should have. The smell of burning plastic and oil filled the kitchen.
The protective pink oven mitts she had worn did little to nothing in protecting her from the searing pain, as she shook and writhed on the ground. She put her covered hands to the burning plastic, wanting to get the oil off of herself as quickly as possible. To her horror, when she removed her hands, the pink and white plastic came off on the oven mitt as she moved it away. There was no going back from that, no matter how she tried to put it back in place, the plastic mixed together in a pink and white combination, making the lines on her body disappear, now having more of the consistency of glue. Some of the plastic stuck to her legs and arms,only making the pain more immense.
A new smell filled the room, it was...Soap? Yes, oil, plastic and soap. But how was that true? Had she, in her painful movements, accidentally spurt out some soap from her nozzle? No, that wasn't it.
Although she dreaded it, she looked back down.
In her movements, she had indeed spilled the soap, but not from the nozzle on her head.When the plastic burned, it melted away from her left side. Her soapy innards were leaking out onto the floor of Hotel OJ, and she was powerless to stop it.
Soap had never felt pain like this before, nor had she ever even experienced death. She then recalled one time, while she was still on Inanimate Insanity all those years ago, they were recording an episode. She didn't recall the number, but she remembered they were supposed to cook a pizza for an assortment of judges. One thing that the viewers of the show never knew was just how much of the drama was fake, made up by Mephone or some producers to make it more interesting. They had pulled Soap aside before shooting the scene, when they asked her, just for dramatic effect, to act more bossy and angry. More specifically, to Cheesy. Whether this decision was random or just because of Mephone's general dislike of him, she didn't care. Surely he'd understand, they were just acting after all. However, she wasn't aware of the fact that they hadn't told Cheesy this. Maybe it was to get a genuine reaction out of him, or create even more pointless drama.
Whatever it was, Soap didn't know until after she had done it.
After a particularly stupid pun, Soap proceeded to aprehend Cheesy and take him closer to the giant cheese grater they had. She could feel he was scared, but thought this too was a part of his act.
Wow, he's a good actor.
She remembered thinking. She slammed his knees against the grater, intending to pretend as if she was shredding him.
"O-Oh come on guys! This is de-grating!"
Cheesy joked in trembling breaths. Soap said nothing as she slid him across the cheese grater. His screams were terrifying, and those around them even looked horrified as she did it. Cheesy squeezed her arms and scratched at them, as if desperately trying to get out of her grasp. She looked around, looking proud. She thought herself and Cheesy great actors, even thinking they deserved a reward for this performance. Especially Cheesy, whose screams sounded so real. Too real.
It took far too long for Soap to look back, noticing that she had indeed been shredding his knees against the garter. Upon noticing this, she dropped him and stumbled back in horror. Cheesy held his legs and wailed in pain. This wasn't an act, to her dismay. She had really, actually hurt him.
They stopped shooting the scene after that, however Mephone, in all his morbid glory, thought they should keep it in the episode. They just edited it to seem more comedic. Though Soap thought this was even more horrific. It took years for her to regain Cheesy's trust, even more recently having sat down with him to explain what had really happened all those years ago. He was surprisingly glad to hear that, now knowing it wasn't an act of malice, instead just a mistake. He had even hugged her, signifying his acceptance of her apology. That was such a good day. A new friend gained. Cheesy was always a forgiving person.
Was this what pain was like? It hurt so much more than she knew. Cheesy's cries that day had reminded her of her own. This wasn't like fear, the fear of getting dirty, the fear of germs and all that was filthy. This was real. No, it was like all those fears at once, at the same time, intensified to their maximum. She was in pain, she was helpless, she was filthy.
Filthy.
Grimy.
And dirty.
Trophy was just making his way into the kitchen, with the full intent to have a good day for once. That would start, just as he promised, by talking to Soap. He knew that her soft voice and kind demeanor would be able to put his worries to rest once and for all. Between her and Cheesy, they'd help him a great deal. And if necessary, he'd return the favor.
By the time he heard her screams, just as they'd begun, his heart sank and he felt a massive weight in his stomach. That scream, it was just like..What was it like?
Salt.
Except it lasted longer, so much longer, and it was still going even now. He had waited, standing in place, just in case his mind was playing a cruel joke on him. It wasn't. Her screams didn't cease.
His legs stung with the pain of old wounds as he bolted to the source of her voice. He wasn't prepared for what he would see when he finally made it through the door of the kitchen and looked down to see her. He nearly wretched, his legs suddenly feeling weak again and falling under him. Soap's mitted hands were stuck to her body, where the plastic melted and fused with them. The white and pink pattern on her looked like mixed paint, no longer one single color. Her legs went from their normal black color to a painful reddish-pink, after the skin burned away. While her face had been spared, she didn't spare Trophy the look on her face. She looked so scared, so horrified. How did this happen? Who did this to her?! Who would hurt such a kind, innocent soul?!
He fumbled to her side, sliding across the wet, soapy floor. Soapy? Why was it...
His screams joined hers as he made it to her side. Her squeaky clean insides were spilling out of her, the wall keeping them in place now gone. He finally threw up, emptying his stomach next to her body.
Soap's mitted hands reached out to him, or at least tried to. He hesitated, not knowing how to help her. One hand at a time, he took off the oven mitts. It was remarkable, her hands were hardly scarred, thanks to the protective gloves having served their purpose. The gloves were still stuck to her body, but now that her hands were free, she held onto Trophy for dear life. Her eyes begging with him, trying to convey her pleas. She wasn't able to properly string words together, too lost in her haze of pain. Trophy shook his head desperately.
"I- I don't know- what you're..I - What do I- do?! Im so..Im sorry-!"
He spat out. He wanted to move his arms to embrace her, but he was too scared of further harming her. He was a brute, he didn't know his own strength. But she needed comfort now, so he pulled her up and into a hug.
Soap's entrails slumped down onto the floor further as she sat upright. She vomited instantly onto herself and Trophy at the new wave of pain.
His grip tightened on her in fear.
Oh god, I'm making it worse. This is all my fault. How do I fix it?!
He scrambled and wracked his brain for a solution. Something, anything. He said he would return the favor to her kindness, is this how he was doing it? By hurting her? Was that all he knew how to do, hurt people? Of course it was, the damage he had just caused was irreversible. He couldn't fix his mess this time. Why couldn't somebody else fix it? Why was nobody else coming to help?!
The truth of the matter was that everyone had heard it. Everyone could hear their screams. But they were so familiar. They didn't want to believe this could happen again, not so soon. And hell, nobody cared about Salt, but Soap? Soap was beloved by all the hotel's residents. She was like a mother figure to them, if not then, at least a good friend. She didn't deserve it.
They were paralized in place, unmoving. Whether they were sitting in their rooms, outside, in any other room of the hotel, nobody got up to investigate. OJ himself was standing dead center in the middle of the lounge, his eyes fixated in the direction of those never ending screams. He had tried so hard to fix it, to lead everyone back to how they were before. Why was it that his hotel was filled with screams, and not the laughter of those he cared for? Why did they have to suffer?
Maybe they deserve it? After all Salt and Soap are both so damn annoying, right? One with her obsession with cleaning and the other's obsession with me?
He broke his gaze momentarily to dispel those morbid thoughts of him. They met the eyes of Paper, who was looking at him with those scared eyes of his. Those...eyes. They always had a strong effect on OJ. And those eyes were pleading with him now. They were telling him to go and see what was happening. That he had to fix it, he just had to. If it wasn't Paper, he may not have gone. But he was out of that room before he even had a chance to think against it.
The police officer walked across the back of the hotel, OJ trailing closely behind him. It was a messy job to clean up for the first responders, especially without hurting her, but after some effort they were able to load Soap into that stretcher, he explained. They had also ordered that everyone else in the hotel leave and stay outside while they do their job.
All the hotel's residents had no idea what had happened in that kitchen, and they didn't want to know either way.
"Is...Is she dead?"
OJ managed to get out. The officer shook his head no, much to his surprise. He was sure by how much time had passed, and her condition, she would have passed away soon.
"She's a fighter. The doctors on sight told me she's lucky to be alive. They should be bringing her out any minute. I'd suggest you tell the lot of those people to look away unless they want to-"
He didn't get to finish his sentence as the front door of the hotel burst open. Everyone who was waiting outside looked in unison to the doorway. Two doctors were carrying a stretcher on either side, and in it, they carried the whimpering and whining Soap. Her injured side had been wrapped up so as to not have her innards continue spilling out. And yet, her condition was no better than before. The hotel's residents looked on in horror and gave cries of anguish for their friend. Some looked away, some couldn't tear their eyes away, and others, like Fan, who was more sensitive, threw up at the mere sight of her. Soap weakly held her arms close to her, bent at an odd angle, almost looking like a baby bird before his wings grew feathers. Almost as if she was trying to hide herself from them. She was embarrassed that they had to see her like this, embarrassed and ashamed that she had failed to bring them peace. Instead, she feared that she'd made it even worse, that if they kept looking at her, they would only fall further into despair.
As Soap was brought into the ambulance, OJ looked at her. They both locked eyes and he promptly looked away. He didn't want to look at her, look into the eyes of another person he'd let down. No, no. This wasn't his fault, right? It was just another accident. The second one in a week. This wasn't normal. Were they cursed? No, that was stupid. There was no reason, nobody to blame.
OJ only heard the sobs of someone behind him as the ambulance's door shut with Soap inside. He turned around to see Trophy, who was at his lowest. He was a shaking, crying mess. OJ wasn't even sure how he was standing up, he looked like his legs couldn't support his own weight. OJ was stunned. He looked more heartbroken than that other day, when they took a fall at the stairs. Of course this was different, he and Soap had been close. They were friends, and she had always been the one to tell the uncertain hotel residents that Trophy was a good person deep down. She was the only one that could see that in him.
OJ looked back at his prized hotel. This place had been forever tainted now, even by the time Soap and Salt came back, nobody would forget this, even OJ knew he couldn't shake these days from his head. Though, he lost his train of thought as he looked up and into one of the windows, and was shocked to see a pair of eyes looking back at him. Pepper and him seemed to be caught in a never ending staring contest, as if daring him to look away, lest he want to look back at the misery left outside. When he did look away, there were only the melancholy sounds of the hotel's residents, their cries and silent words exchanged didn't resonate in his mind.
He didn't say a word as he walked back inside the hotel. The cherries looked as he left, seemingly the only people that had noticed him leave. Cher shook his head.
"I'm sorry, Reese. I should've believed you. You knew something bad was gonna happen. I knew it, and I-I didn't do anything. I didn't listen."
Reese didn't respond. The other cherry looked at them.
"Reese?"
No answer.
"...I get it, you're mad at me. You think it's my fault..I do too. I'm sorry. I'm so sorry."
He embraced her, crying softly. She raised her arms up to hold him, but still said nothing.
No, it wasn't his fault. It was hers. She hadn't looked back when she threw Soap's rag into the kitchen. Soap slipped on it. She knew this, because when she was being carried on the stretcher, Reese noticed it. The bottom of her left foot was wet, and not from the burning liquid that had disfigured her, but it was soapy.
What could she say? She was a murderer. She'd killed Soap. No, she wasn't dead. Worse, she'd be permanently scarred and traumatized. In fact, it would've been better if she died. Was she going to jail? It was still attempted murder. Everyone was going to hate her. Cher, OJ, Trophy, everyone in the hotel wouldn't even look at her. She was going to have to pay for what she'd done. Those thoughts filled her head and made her wail with despair. This was all her fault. Salt's death was an accident, but she hurt Soap. The sheer anxiety of the situation made her panic. Would her sibling also be made to pay for what she did, since they were attached? They would both go to jail for something she did. It wasn't fair. Not fair at all.
Cher, not knowing the real cause of her tears, spoke words of comfort to her. She didn't hear them. She was thinking of how to evade punishment for her actions. Nobody knew she was responsible right? She didn't quite hear what OJ and that officer talked about, but she'd loosely heard the words "accident" and "by mistake". She was always a good eavesdropper, so she'd been listening in loosely on their conversation. That meant nobody knew. And nobody was going to know. She would be safe. They would both be safe. For now, at least.
OJ staggered his way through the empty hotel. People would come in soon, the sun was coming down. He was more than ready for this day to end. As he made his way up the stairs, he stepped on something sharp. He held his foot and winced in pain. On top of everything, he'd just hurt himself. Great, that was just fucking great. He bent down, careful not to spill himself over, and picked up the sharp implement.
It was a tooth. OJ knew well who it belonged to.
He shook his head. Slowly at first, then quickly, enraged. Small bits of orange juice splattered on the wall and steps. He held it in his fist tightly and made his way upstairs. Upon entering the hallway, he opened the first window he saw and threw the tooth out of it aggressively.
Why can't you just STAY OUT OF HERE?!! NOBODY WANTS YOU HERE, SO JUST STAY OUT.
He thought, to nobody in particular. He stomped into his room after that and slammed the door so hard, it startled Pepper. And yet, she still kept her eyes locked on what she had been looking at the majority of the last three days. That circle of stones, so still and undisturbed.
She decided she would go visit her again, just to be sure that was really her. She had to know.