Route 66

Route 66

It’s dark. A swirling mass of shadow holds my eyes closed, refusing to let go even as I struggle to open them. I can hear people in the parking lot, someone shouting, someone screaming and another laughing with glee only someone in movies can pull off. I can hear that neon sign blink on and off. I hate that sign, I hate this hotel, and I hate him.
         There he is, as I open my eyes he is always there. That smug bastard is reveling in my fear of him. The shades are pulled down, but still some light enters through. The cold blink of the neon sign lances his body with only a small shaft of glow. It focuses on his face, two cold pits of eyes stare back at me, and an open grin shows small sharp teeth. He sees me huddled there against the bed and he keeps smiling, a silent laugh escapes him.  He never goes away, always luring in the dark depths until a sudden jolt will bring me under his control. I didn’t mean to, I promise, it was all him, it was his grisly work.
         Sensing my disgust and horror he points at his handiwork. I see her now, only a pale hand curled up in a dead spider’s pose is hit with the blinking light of that neon sign. I can see the iridescence of ruby splotches across that perfect hand running down and across the carpet. He sees me shaking and continues to laugh horribly, suddenly audible, the sound echoing with metallic clangs inside my head.
         I wonder why, why would someone do this; why would someone be so cold? Why would he use me to do his “artwork”? I don’t want him to keep doing this; I’m tired of playing his games. I’m tired of being alone and afraid. Right now I can see him getting angry at my thoughts, his face curls into a snarl and his awful eyes smoldering with such a hidden flame that I struggle to shrink away from it. He grins once more, and I finally realize that I have had it; if he is going to bring me down I’m taking him with me.
         What’s funny is that as I have my sudden revelation, the neon sign goes out.
         The monster is pacing now. Pacing? Why would someone oh so brave and cruel be fearing of the night, this total darkness that once again envelops me so closely with mother like embrace. He looks to me, eyes now dilating in uncertainty as I grab the phone from the nightstand, holding it to me. Three numbers and a curt woman asking for an address sends him screaming, flying around with thin trails of wisp after him. I drop the phone now, letting the woman tell me again and again that help is coming…help for me.
         The beast is howling now, lunging towards me, only to be stopped by the mirrored glass. He slams against the barrier, again and again, until he becomes too tired to continue, only to recover and go at it again. I can see cracks dancing along the silver exterior. Droplets of crimson rust stain the perfect color of that barrier, more and more showing with every crack. I’m the one laughing now, only scaring my other more as he tries in vain to get at me.          
         “It’s over.” I tell him calmly. Already I can see lights of deep blue, the sound of sirens pierce the silence. I’m smiling. They pound at the door, the beast still attacking against the broken shield. The cracks are so prominent…their beautiful. I can see pieces of glass falling apart.
         I take the outstretched hand into my lap, feeling the chill of cold fingers. I look down to see my own bleeding, pieces of glass sticking out of them. Funny…I can’t feel them anymore.
         I hear the door break down, the sounds of heavy boots thudding against the outside room’s floor. I can see their vibrations in my fingers, watching the glass dance again and again as the big men wait outside my door, trying their best to stay quiet. The beast has now given in, powerless now; a broken husk of what was once a deep shadow of hate and pain, retreating into those dark corners. I stand; staring at a new light that pierces my eyes. It’s cleansing, pure, and walking towards it gives me new hope. A man shouts, the light moves to her unmoving corpse. I follow the light to my guilt, my body shadowing its every move.
         Someone tackles me to the floor, yelling at me to keep my head down. I can barely hear him anymore over my own voice, a ringing bell of justice as steel engulfs my wrist.
         “It was me!” I shout over their voices. The light burns away the beast with one final shriek.
I have finally found freedom.
“It was me!”