to hell and back.

One foot in front of the other. Step after step after step.

My mind feels blank. I don't feel sad or angry. Just flat, like a vast, empty field. I'm pretty sure this is what being in shock feels like.

I never gave much thought to the idea of death, but I would never have guessed this.

Charlie gave me a two-night stay in her hotel. She said, and I quote, I feel terrible for you. Stay here for two nights, it's on the house. Like I have anywhere else to go. She also told me that if I ever want to stay with her permanently - which sounds like an intriguing offer - I would only have to become a member of the hotel crew. She could put an interview together with her and a friend she called Angel Dust. I told her I would think about it. She asked me if I needed her to walk me to my room, I said yes.

"This is it," she says, stopping in front of a large, wooden door numbered 328. I stare at the door, then glance at the shimmering, silver knob. An image of my silver car handle flickers through my mind. I blink the thought away and look back at Charlie for a distraction.

"Thank you so much. It honestly means a lot," I say, offering a genuine smile.

Charlie nods. "Anytime." She hands me the room key, then stands there with her arms folded together behind her back. After a moment, I realize that she is waiting for me to go inside. I slide the key card into the lock slot and wait for a clicking sound.

Surprisingly, the walls are deep tan rather than dark red, like most of the walls in the building. The carpet looks like it could hide a murder perfectly: it's such a bloody red it actually scares me. I turn and wave Charlie goodbye before closing the door behind me. Leaning against the door, I let out a huge sigh. It's been a long day.

I look around the room, fully examining every corner. There is a granite countertop to my left with a dark grey sink installed in the center. Just next to the counter is a black refrigerator, and above that, cabinets the same dark oak color as the door. Across from the small kitchen area is another door that leads to a white, tiled bathroom. Back in the main room, small round lights line the ceiling, trailing down the room until they hit the far back wall, which has a large, square window. I'm too scared to look out of the window, so I grab the two burgundy curtains on either side of the glass and slide them shut. To the right of the window are two full sized beds with pink and black comforters, white pillows, and large, dark headstands. Hanging on the wall across from the two beds is a fresh-looking TV.

Without another thought, I flop down face first on the bed closest to the window. It bounces back underneath my body, but it settles after a few seconds. I bury my face in the pillows and hope that I suffocate, die, and wake up from this horrible dream, back on Earth with my mom and pop and little sister. Thinking about mom and pop sends me into a spiraling sadness. To them, I am missing. When my car crashed, I had been on my way home from my friend Natalie's house to eat dinner with them. Oh, how shattered they will be to find out I had died in a car accident.

ᯬ

An hour later, I sit up. The blankets are crumpled in a heaping mess over me, and both of the pillows are tear-soaked and covered in smears of wet mascara. I head to the bathroom to wipe my eyes, tie my hair up in a ponytail with a small rubber band sitting on the counter, fix my shirt, and barely gulp down a lukewarm glass of sink water. After staring at myself for another few minutes, I decide that it will be a good idea to explore the hotel and see if I can find a way to get money, clothes, food, anything. I need stuff, and looking for stuff will take my mind off of the recent events.

Grabbing my room key and shoving it in my pocket, I walk into the dim hallway outside of my room and look both ways before turning to the left, the way to the elevator. After taking three small steps, I get the feeling that I'm being watched, like someone is standing right beside me.