Murder and Wine - Chapters 1 and 2

Chapter 1: End of Summer

Summer days were not enough to warm the chills of Cynthia’s nerves, which flooded her veins with every footstep crossing forward, and every footprint left behind. Darkness corrupted her mind day in and day out, each night and each dawn. The only way she was ever good at hiding it was lying through her teeth as much as possible. Only one person in the world could ever know what she had done, but in Cynthia’s mind there was no way of telling that person. School was about to start; the first day nearing on. This being Cynthia’s senior year, she had her last chance to step up and finish school. She dropped out several times in junior year, until one day she got a letter in the mail saying she was not to drop out again or she couldn’t come back.

She was a young girl, seventeen, and just entering the world of reality, and graduation was coming soon. “Only a few months to go,” she mumbled to herself. “It’s hard to believe I made it this far”.

It was two-thirty in the morning, so Cynthia closed her laptop and crawled out her window and sat on the roof of the second story house. They lived in the suburbs of the southern part of Richmond, Virginia, in a nice Victorian Cottage, just miles from Busch Gardens.

“Damn it!” she exclaimed, with a tone of aggravation. She was on her last bit of pot, and at this point was already frustrated enough. She was a stoner as they called her at school, with heavy bloodshot eyes, that shone green in the sunlight. Cynthia had long, uncombed, dirty-blonde hair with faded blue streaks at the tips. Her split ends always got in the way of her hairbrush, so fashion didn’t matter too much to her anymore. Her lips were always chapped, and her whole complexion pale as a ghost. She had light colored freckles, with her eyebrows almost gone completely.

Very frail and thin, she balanced herself as best she could on the firm and old house, lying on the slant inhaling deeply through her ivory stick. After a few puffs, and random stares of ashes falling to the ground, she put her blunt out in the drab of the leaves and dirt which took up most of the roof’s surface.

Cynthia tried crawling back through her window as careful as she could, but ended up getting a scratch on her stomach. It just so happens the branch that cut her marked the exact same scar which already covered her lower abdomen, where her appendix were taken out at age ten. Barely even noticing it, she managed to get back inside her room, and rummaged her way through the mess of clothes and old writings scattered on the floor to her bed. With a spray of perfume, and a leap, she made it just in time before her dad came in to shut off the light. “Goodnight Cynthia” he said, giving her the look of a concerned parent. Cynthia new this look wasn’t good, but continued to ignore it.

Turning off her light, she threw the blankets over her head and mumbled “Night Dad.”

Before shutting her eyes, she whipped out her flashlight and her diary, opened to page 135 and entered:

Dear Diary,

Today was weird. Last day of summer for me, and I’m going back to school tomorrow. I’m afraid to see Mindy, because of what happened with Tyler and I, and that whole situation makes me sick as shit. I’m also nervous about seeing Chad. I want to tell him how I feel, but I’m too afraid. I’m so tired of drama, and I want to get out of school again. I think my dad might kick me out if I even mention it. Damn. Anyway, I wrote a short poem. The words have just been sunk into my mind recently, and I don’t know why.

The story that concludes this lie

Of everlasting tears; run dry

Will one day show my truth revealed

Of every pain I hold concealed.

Maybe someday I could publish a book. Yeah right! Anyway, I’ll write more tomorrow after school. I’ll be off to sleep now.

~C.

The next morning arrives; seven O’ clock and the alarm is ringing loudly as ever. She swallowed deeply as she sighed, unable to wake up.

“Wake up, Cynthia. Cynthia, it’s time to get ready for school. Wake up honey!” whispered her father. Bill was a big man. Not very tall, but he had a bit of a pot belly. Always a sandwich in one hand, and a cola in the other. A deranged laugh always came out of him at the oddest of times. He was a simple man with thick glasses, and a sweaty face, his nose and cheeks glistened like Christmas time. He was a bit strange, though. His innocent face didn’t exactly disguise his need for power.

Rubbing one hand through his natty and thin hair against his rosy, balding skull, he looked down at her and rubbed her arm. As he chuckled, he said “Come on now, it’s time to get up.”

Not even bothering to hop in the shower nor change her clothes, Cynthia ran downstairs with her hair in a frizz, and sat down at the table. Her father made her strawberry waffles, which she loved. Taking her sweet time, she looked at her daddy with a puppy eyes and said “Can I please stay home today?”

“Hahahahaha. You’re funny, child,” smirked Bill.

She finished up her breakfast, gave her father a hug and grabbed her backpack just before heading out the door.

Roland High wasn’t but half a mile from Cynthia’s house, so she walked along a deserted asphalt, covered in gravel. The clouds were heavy and gray, but shown no sign of rain. It was humid, and hot, with a nasty wind carrying through. She passed her neighbor’s farm, and turned a sharp left down a rusty alleyway.

As soon as she entered the view of the school, she quit walking. She stared blankly at this place, as if she’d never been there before. A strange feeling of oddity hit her straight in the stomach, and she thought to herself, “It must be the scratch, that’s all…”

Cynthia winced a bit and just ignored the pain, realizing also that her time of the month was coming soon. “Great. How fun,” she smirked.

Students passed her like cars on the freeway, old and new. In the center of everybody staring at her, she knew she wasn’t seen. Conversations coming through like race horses, the voices were stepping all over her like tattered hooves stampeding through this wasteland. Her main focus was to find her first class; English. “Room 204, this must be it,” she swallowed deeply again and stepped inside.

“Attention class, my name is Mr. Benin, pronounced Been-In.”

The students laughed, and one even murmured, “I wonder what he’s been in!”

Mr. Benin glared and said “sit down class. We’re about to start.”

“Today we will begin our book reports on the books you read this summer. Please take out your pencils and put away your music, John. Make sure you ---- Cynthia… Cynthia!” shouted Mr. Benin, tapping his fingers rapidly on his desk.

“What? Oh… sorry. I’m awake!” cried Cynthia, as if she wasn’t even paying attention.

“Now, as I was saying. Today marks the first day of school. Cynthia, did you read ‘The Dark Half’ by Steven King over the summer like you were supposed to?” Mr. Benin said glaring at her with a nasty eye.

At this point Cynthia was so tired she had nearly forgotten what book she was supposed to read. Struggling to keep her eyes open, she nodded slightly not knowing what to say, and began her book report.

Very shortly after she placed her pencil to her paper, Cynthia’s eyes gazed out the window, staring into the world from her classroom with no intention of finishing her test. The clouds were an onyx shade of gray, in the shape of which she was reminded of her father dancing with her in a meadow of daffodils. Her eyes wandered to and fro her paper and the window sill, doodling small flowers along the border of her exam. She could always write in her diary, why was it so hard for her to focus at school?

“CYNTHIA MCCOY.”

“Yes Mr. Benin?” Cynthia squealed not knowing what was going on around her.

“Miss McCoy, I’m sorry but you are obviously not focused here today. Is something bothering you that you’d like to share with us?”

Cynthia’s eyes winced, sweat beads streaming from her jaw line down to the tip of her pale chin, and she stuttered, “I – I… I’m fine.” She was still a bit baked from last night’s toke.

“One more disruption from you,” Mr. Benin said in a raspy voice, “and you will be sent straight to detention. Got that?”

“S - Sure. Again, I’m s - sorry.”

With her head facing down at her paper, she still failed to pay attention to her paper, which was 90% of her final grade, even at the start of the year. If she didn’t pass this report, she wouldn’t graduate. That however was the least of her problems. As Cynthia was making her eyes go cross-eyed on her paper, a sharp pointy object jabbed at her elbow.

“What?!” whispered Cynthia as she turned around. It was Chad Derwick. He had dark chestnut hair and sea foam green eyes that matched the color of her torn and faded backpack. His smile could make any girl melt completely, and he had such mysterious emotion about him.

“Oh… Hi Chad…” she mumbled softly, her hand holding her jaw up to the rest of her face.

“Here, this is from Mindy.” Chad passed up a folded, crumpled note into Cynthia’s hand. He grinned at her almost as if he was going to say something, but quickly turned back to his paper.

Humiliated and coral cheeked, Cynthia swiftly faced the front of her desk embarrassed at the thought the note might have been from Chad himself, she slowly started unfolding it. The letter read:

Hey C,

I know we haven’t talked much this year, but you’re my best friend and I miss you. Meet me behind Old Manny’s Café tonight at 7:00pm. Bring some money cuz I know where we can get some greens. I hope to see you later!

Luv Mindy ♥

This surprised Cynthia, because Mindy Laun had not talked to Cynthia since she broke up with Tyler Harrington. Cynthia and Tyler dated for eleven months straight, until one day she walked in on Tyler making out with Mindy in the girl’s locker room.

With shifty eyes, Cynthia sharply stared back at Mindy, wondering why she would want to meet so suddenly and whispered, “Why?” with a shaky voice.

“Because I need to talk to you about Tyler”, said Mindy in a nervous tone.

“Well after what you did I don’t think I should!” she shouted, once again very angry at the thought of what she did, Cynthia slammed her book down on the table.

“What in the hell is wrong with you, Cynthia? To detention, NOW!” Mr. Benin exclaimed.

Stopping dead in her tracks, Cynthia realized abruptly what she had done and quietly tip toed out of the room on her way to the principal’s office. Getting slightly sidetracked, she saw the nurse’s office and started to head wayward.

“Well hello Cynthia! I haven’t seen you in ages!”, cried Nurse Chung. “So very good to see you again! What’s wrong dear?”

“I think I need to go home, I have really bad cramps.” cried Cynthia.

“Oh dear…” wept Nurse Chung, “Alright. Take a seat and I’ll call your mom”

“NO!!! Wait!!” moaned Cynthia, sounding perfectly normal. “I mean… owww… please, wait… I can walk, it’s not that far.”

Nurse Chung hesitated. She knew what Cynthia had done before; she knew that Cynthia was lying. She didn’t know about what, but she still felt it. But at the same time, she didn’t want to deal with her today. “Well I guess I can go ahead and send you home… you aren’t in trouble this time are you?”

“Not at all”, she said with her fingers crossed. Would Cynthia realize that lying will get her no where? “I just felt sick so Mr. Benin sent me to the nurse’s office!”

“Alright… just sit down while I sign the papers, and I will just try to call your mother.”

“SHE ISN’T HOME!” shouted Cynthia.

“Oh… what about your father?” said Nurse Chung a bit apprehensively.

Cynthia stopped dead in her tracks again. How long would she be able to pull this off? Her mother was murdered when Cynthia was only nine, with no trace of the killer anywhere. “W-Well my dad is working tonight until late this evening… but my sister is going to be home around the time I get there.” Cynthia lied once again, because she did not have a sister either. It was just her and her father, who indeed does work late night shifts.

She stared out the window again, and saw Mr. Robertson, the school principal walking from the study hall back to his office. He was a very tall man, about 6’5”, dark skin and dark hair, with oddly shaped spectacles that always slid off his nose. Without haste, Cynthia ducked and lied down on the cold, firm sick bed, grunting about her cramps. She had almost forgotten about them until her stomach started to rot and flop about, feeling twice as bad as they did earlier.

“Owwwww they really hurt!” she cried once again, this time she was serious, she really wanted to go home.

“Here you go dear, just give this slip to the monitor on your way out, okay? A couple of these should do the trick as well.” Nurse Chung handed Cynthia some Advil, and a small paper-thin cup of water. The water was discolored, and the cup was all mangled as if it had already been used. With a turned face of disgust, Cynthia swished the water down with the two blue pills, trying not to gag in front of the nurse.

“Thanks… “

Cynthia headed towards the gate of the school, crossing a dead yellow field of what used to be grass. She slowly approached the monitor, Sal, who was always friendly to Cynthia. Except for today though, Sal gave Cynthia a cold look as if she had seen death just seconds before Cynthia walked up there.

“You alright, child?” moped Sal with a blood thinning stare.

Cynthia tried not to look her in the eyes too much. “I have cramps, so I’m heading home… I think I should be asking you the same question. Are you okay, Sal?”

“Eh, I’ve had better days. You know, I’ve got this mad pain in my stomach…”

“Maybe it’s cramps too?” Cynthia exclaimed. “You really should take a day off, you work really hard.”

“Nah, what’s a day off? No money, no apartment. Hah.” Sal scoffed her feet and stood up as Cynthia rummaged through her pack to get out the nurse’s slip.

“This is from Nurse Chung. She signed it already.” Said Cynthia, her stomach in one hand, her pack resting on her knee, held up by her other hand.

“Now get going child. You better not keep this up this year, you don’t wanna get expelled, do you?”

They both chuckled; Cynthia’s more plain and sarcastic.

Cynthia frankly didn’t care if she got expelled, for she was sure she was done with school. This year she might go to class, but not necessarily do the work like usual. School was just something to help pass the time until she could find another way.

“Well, thanks” Cynthia said. “I guess I’ll be heading home now.”

Chapter 2: The Ransom Note

Cynthia’s plans seemed to be different than she was telling everybody. She ran home as quickly as she could, and ran up straight to her room. Her father was already gone to work. She opened the door slowly though, just to make sure he was gone.

A note was left on the table, it read:

Dear Cynthia

Your teacher called and left a nasty message. You need to be here when I come home. We need to talk. Love, Dad.”

Cynthia was scared. She didn’t want it to happen again… not this. Not the belt, not the paddle. Anything but that. She was tired of getting bruises on the back of her legs. She was tired of her dad seeing her private parts when she was in trouble. She was tired of living here.

Before she could even think about getting beaten again, she locked her door, and lit up the last half of her joint. Taking a deep breath, she inhaled rather strong, and ended up coughing. She held it in, and gently let her shoulders drop and exhaled. Cynthia put some Pink Floyd in her CD player, and sat back for a while.

“I have become comfortably numb”, sang Cynthia with the song. “This is my chilling out song!” she squealed as she took her last hit.

After tossing the last remains out the window, she turned around and leaned back against the wall. Her eyes slowly shifted through every object in her room, and she was pondering. Pondering; ever so deeply.

Before she went on with her plans that were engaging each other inside of her head, she turned to the phone. Her fingers dialed. A voice picked up, and it said “Thank you for calling McSpeedy’s Pizza Parlor, you crave it, you order it, you eat it! How can I take your order today?”

“Um… hello. I need two medium ---“ started Cynthia, but was immediately interrupted.

“Can I get your phone number, Miss??” said the voice through the other end.

He sounded like a teenager with pimples and no social life, and Cynthia giggled. “Yes… that’s 555, 2485” she spoke softly, trying to hide her laughing.

“Address?” he said impatiently. She said it rather fast, because she was hungry and needed to leave the house soon.

“What’s your order?!” he shouted.

“Yes, as I was saying earlier—“

“You’re going to have to speak up, ma’am.”

Cynthia got a bit angry. “I will have TWO MEDIUM CHEESE PIZZAS WITH A SIDE OF—“

“You don’t have to be so loud, miss,” said the pizza guy.

“With a side of cinnamon sticks please.” Cynthia said, panting.

“That’ll be $24.52. It will arrive in about twenty minutes. Thank you for ordering!”

Click. He instantly hung up the phone before she could say anything.

“What an ass,” Cynthia said.

Wandering to her father’s room, she opened his door quietly, again, checking to make sure that he wasn’t in there. Once all was clear, Cynthia stepped in and opened his second dresser drawer. She grabbed $30 and walked out, heading for her room again. She sat down in her big green mushroom chair. It was really fluffy, with purple polka dots in random splotches all over. Her fingers trailed along the side, and she started looking around at all her things again. She didn’t have much, but a messy bed, some books on a shelf that have never been used, and a lot of knickknacks.

The closet was mostly empty. She didn’t own a lot of clothes, because she didn’t ever have the care to own more than a few shirts and pairs of pants. She never had many friends, just Mindy mainly. Tyler was the only boyfriend Cynthia ever had, because they were friends since the second grade. Her wooden floors creaked, and were really hard to sleep on. She had an end table by her bed, which held her diary, her weed when she had it, and a guitar pick.

Cynthia loved her videogames, which was her only really expensive object in the house. Even if she didn’t play that often, she still loved knowing she had something to do if she needed to be locked in her room.

Some footsteps were heard downstairs. “I’m coming!! I’m coming!!” yelled Cynthia as the doorbell rang profusely.

The door opened before her hand could touch the doorknob. She forgot to lock it, and she said “Good job” out loud.

“Pardon, ma’am?” said the pizza guy. By the tone of his voice, she was definitely right on her assumption of his looks. He was scrawny, short, and boney. His voice was all squeaky, as if he just hit the middle of his puberty.

“Oh, nothing. Here.” Cynthia handed him the $30 and said “Keep the change.”

“Wow, thanks!!” snorted the pizza guy. “I’m Jim, would you like to go out sometime?”

“You’re welcome. Uhh… no thanks. Go buy yourself some more Pokemon cards.”

“Hey! I don’t play Pokemon! Well, what about next—“

The door slammed in his face. This time Cynthia remembered to lock the door. When she was sure he was gone, she went up to her room again. Before she entered, she remembered the stash of pot her father had at the top of his closet in a shoe box. Cynthia quickly grabbed the dime bag, and went back to her room.

She set up a tapestry on the floor, and sat down. Scarfing down the pizza, she nearly finished both boxes, with only a few pieces of crust remaining.

Afterwards she let out a loud burp, and kicked the box across the room. Cynthia got up after her stomach settled down a bit, and she ambled over to the closet. She came out with a small sized backpack, and loaded it with her diary, some money she had stolen from her father, blunt wraps, and a photo of her father with her mother’s head cut out of the picture. She tore a piece from the diary and wrote:

Mr. McCoy:

If you ever want to see your daughter again, you must admit to your lies and wrong doings. If you do not comply with my demands, she will die. The lies will get you. They will come back and haunt you for the rest of your life. You need to realize this now before it’s too late.

The story that concludes this lie

Of everlasting tears; run dry

Will one day show my truth revealed

Of every pain I hold concealed.

She taped this ransom note to another piece of paper under it that says:

Dear daddy,

I cannot bear what will happen when you come home tonight, so I am leaving town. I don’t know where I’m going, but it doesn’t matter. I know with what happened at school today you will kick me out anyway, which is fine. I’m turning eighteen soon. I’m sorry about what happened to mom, and I hope that someday you find justice in what happened to her. When you aren’t drinking, you really are a great father, but I need something different. I can’t depend on you anymore. If only you had actually BEEN a father, and took the time to talk to me through the years. You know you could have said more to me than you did. Anything! Even “Hey Kiddo, have a good day.” But I only get that when you are hiding something. Well, people shouldn’t hide things. It’s not right. I’m going to leave now. If you find this paper, please know that I am fine. Maybe someday we can be a family again.

Love ~ C.

Cynthia taped it together well enough that it was almost impossible to tell it was two sheets of paper. She left the note next to the dirty, sticky plate that her waffles used to be on, and took one long, final look at her house. She had no idea where she was going to go, except her first stop was Old Manny’s Café.

Six-thirty came around, so Cynthia grabbed her bus token and headed out the door. She didn’t even bother locking the door. She didn’t care, about anything. Nothing mattered anymore, not even if she lived or if she died. Cynthia waddled along, very slowly. Her head was up at the clouds as usual, and she didn’t look down till she ended up on 7th Avenue.

Only yards away, she now kept all her attention at Old Manny’s Café. Sneaking her way to the back, she took an alley that separated the café from an old and abandoned toy factory.

The warehouse had a gruesome scent; unbearable. Cynthia put her shirt over her nose and ran a bit faster to get to the back. With a sharp turn, she ran around the corner and hit Mindy right in the head with her own.

“Oww you twat, be careful!” snarled Mindy. “Um, I mean, Hi.” She chuckled.

“Sorry, that warehouse smells like shit!” giggled Cynthia.

Mindy reached into her pocket; Cynthia’s eyes were dead curious. “Here, I got a five ounce. Do you have any money?”

Cynthia hesitated, because she didn’t want to spend her money here… but she said “Oh what the hell”.

Mindy handed her the tiny clear bag with the weed twisted inside, and they sat down on some old trash bags. “Why do you have your backpack with you?”

“No reason… just going out for a while.” Cynthia’s stomach started burning. “Ughhh, do you have any Pamprin or something??”

“No hah, you’re on your own there.” Mindy laughed mockingly as she started to pick the seeds out from the green pile on her lap.

“So, Mindy…” Cynthia started to question about Tyler. “Why were you with Tyler when you knew he was with me from the start??”

Mindy’s eyes couldn’t stay focused on Cynthia. Her long, dark hair hid her eyes which were tearing up as she spoke, “Well…” she paused.

“Just tell me. It’s not like it matters anymore, but I really need to know.” Cynthia said impatiently.

“Well damn Cynthia, look. I’m sorry. Okay? You have been in love with Chad since like, what, seventh grade? I don’t know. I thought it wouldn’t matter… I’m sorry! I wasn’t thinking…” cried Mindy with wide, forgiving eyes.

“Like Chad will ever want to be with me. I don’t care about him anymore, since I’m running away and all…” Cynthia covered her mouth quickly.

“What?! You’re… running away? Why??” yelled Mindy.

“SHUT UP! Not so loud!!” Cynthia exclaimed. “Yes, I am running away. Why the hell do you care?”

“I do care, Cynthia. You are still my best friend. Let me come with you,” insisted Mindy.

Cynthia didn’t even answer. She just picked her bag up and started walking away. “We need to hurry up and get out of here.”

“Okay” Mindy said as she jumped to follow. “Why are you in such a hurry?”

“Look, I wrote a ransom note to my dad, pretending like I’m being kidnapped,” began Cynthia as they sat down at the bus stop.

“Why??”

“Let me finish. I’m sick of him… you know.”

“Hitting you?” Mindy said bluntly.

“Yeah. He acts all nice on the outside, and just ugh. I’m tired of it. I’m sick of this whole town. I’m not going back to school, or anything. Fuck it.” Cynthia said as the bus pulled up to the stop. “We can get anywhere we want. I have $3000!”

Mindy’s jaw dropped. She didn’t even need to ask. Mindy already knew where the money came from; Bill McCoy’s sock drawer. They stepped on and took a seat in the back, still with the joint in their hand. Quickly realizing there were others around, they put it out in the crack of the window sill.

A few hours went by, and the two of them went as far as the bus would take them. They were dropped off in a small town just a few miles south of Richmond. As they stepped off the bus, they felt a strange sense of cold in the air, and started rubbing their shoulders.

“F-F-Fuck it’s cold out here. Where are we?” Mindy whined as she shivered.

“I don’t know. Wherever we are, we better get to some place quickly.” Cynthia rushed to an old motel building. The sign flickered in the night, lighting up the dust particles in the air. They walked inside, and went straight into the bar.

“Do you still have your fake I.D. Mindy?” Cynthia whispered while pulling her own fake I.D. out of her pocket.

“Yeah.” Mindy laughed.

Spotting a couple of empty barstools, they sat down and waited. Fifteen minutes went by, both being ignored by the bartender.

“Hey. HEY! We’re freaking thirsty over here.” Cynthia said rather loudly.

“I’m sorry. Can I help you girls? I’m Monty,” the bartender said while grabbing a couple of glasses. He had a mysterious voice, almost familiar to Cynthia and Mindy. His face was hard to see, as it was covered by a bandana. He was sweaty and kind of stinky, but from his muscles, he was very attractive. His biceps and triceps were very big, and his shirt was very tight.

“Yo Monty. We’re thirsty. Just a couple Corona Lights, please.” Cynthia said convincingly.

“Eww, what?!” Mindy whispered. “We have our ids, why do you have to order beer?”

“I don’t know. Just deal with it” ordered Cynthia while opening her bottle.

“What are you two ladies doing out here this late at night?” asked Monty with a creepy grin on his face.

Mindy and Cynthia looked over at the clock and noticed the time was 1:45 am.

Cynthia looked at Mindy with an odd eye, then back at Monty. “Oh well we’re always out this late. No reason. Rough night, that’s all.”

“Well here.” Monty handed them another beer and said, “These are on the house. Rather, these are on the motel.”

The three of them chuckled and talked for a few hours. 4 am came around, so Cynthia and Mindy headed for the motel to get a room.

“Bye girls, come back and see me soon. I know you will,” Monty laughed.

They picked up their pace, a bit freaked out and rang the little bell on the motel counter. “Hello?!” Cynthia yelled. “Anybody there?”

There stood the motel clerk, amidst a dark, dusty hallway. “Right this way ladies. Room B13 is just around the corner.”

Cynthia felt cold. Even colder then before. She wasn’t sure what to do, but she looked at Mindy, who was nibbling her fingernails and nodding her head slightly. They followed the clerk around the corner into an old dusty room. It was filthy. Dust coated the end tables and bedposts like gray snow in a blanket of frigid paint. Distilled water sat in a rusty glass on top the left end table, with old lip stick prints on the rim. An old rocking chair creaked back and forth another corner, while the whistle of wind seeped through the crack of the window. Mindy turned around to keep her eye on the clerk, to make sure he wasn’t trying to pull anything. Cynthia looked around at the old cinders of dirt embracing the painting “A Starry Night” by Van Gogh. “This room is sure like ‘Mormon rain, haha.’”

“Can I get you anything else, ladies?” The clerk sounded exactly like Monty the bartender.

Mindy started to say something about him sounding like Monty, but Cynthia jumped first to speak. “We’re fine. Thanks.”

“Okay ladies. See you in the morning, or sooner.” Monty said, closing the door behind him.

“What a freak!” Cynthia laughed; Mindy shortly joining in later.

“So…” Mindy asked nervously, “What are we going to do? I mean we can’t stay here forever. What if?...”

There was a knock on the door. Dead silence cast among the air. Mindy and Cynthia both looked at the door together and said “Who’s there?”

“It’s me, Monty,” said the bartender. “I just wanted to make sure you guys are alright.”

Feeling a bit weird, Cynthia said “Oh. We’re fine!”

“Yeah, goodnight!” followed Mindy.

They got into the bed and pulled the cold blanket over their bodies, and lit a candle on the right end table to make sure the room was still dimly lit.

“I wonder what will happen if your dad finds that note…” Mindy stuttered after minutes of silence between the two of them. “You could get into a lot of trouble… Do we even know the name of this hotel? What could possibly happen to us?”

“I have no idea dude… oh well. Let’s just try to get some sleep… we’ll think of what to do in the morning.” The last words from Cynthia’s lips slurred as she sighed and fell fast asleep.

“See you in the morning” whispered Mindy.