Chapter Text
After countless and futile attempts, entering and leaving stores within barely more than a minute, an odd looking hotel caught my eye– it's a four storey hotel, the neighbouring and recent stores gave a stark contrast to the atmosphere that surrounded the building.
At first glance, it really did look like it had seen better days– by better days, I meant the last few or more years. Maybe even decades.
I stared up at it in awe, not realizing when my legs started striding on their own towards the snow-flooded sidewalk. My fingers twitched, feeling the absence of a cigarette I've tried to ignore for the past hours.
I quickly pushed it aside once I reached the facade of the building. Man. it looked even more wrought close up. A draft of wind passes by me, sending a chill down my spine, half-heartedly encouraging myself to enter the damn hotel. I stood there reading the sign,
‘’Hotel Bella Muerte’’
I whispered to myself. it read in blinding colors, enough to strain the eyes of those who pass by, persuading the poor person into going in like it was where they really belonged. Now that I think of it, that poor person was me.
I can’t lie, it was convincing.
I knew it once I pushed the freezing handles of the hotel’s main entrance, I knew there was no going back– that was unless they rejected me, like how the past stores had left me for the past hours.
The scent of candles filled my nostrils, it was quite surprising given the atmosphere of this prehistoric-like hotel. I turned my gaze to glance around the place hesitantly, it was quite dim. There was something else that filled the air, something that wasn’t the drop of temperature. It made the hair on the back of my neck stand up– again, nothing to do with the temperature.
This possibly couldn’t get any stranger. It was disappointingly colder than outside. I frowned. I half expected to enter the store with warmth blowing against my face and filling the inside of my navy parka jacket. Whatever, who was I to run the air conditioning here?
With a sigh, I reluctantly made my way towards the front desk, feeling the thin file folder tremble in my fingers at the sight of someone already sitting there.
"Good day… I’m looking to apply. Is there any chance I could apply here?”
I repeated for what felt like the hundredth time today, expecting something similar to ‘We’re not hiring’ or something equally rejecting. Sometimes they wouldn’t even try and be a complete bitch about it, they'd glare at you to intimidate you to leave the store. This was futile.
The front desk lady glanced up. An elderly woman with kind eyes and a grey bundled bun, smiled warmly at me. Oh god, she looked like she’d been running this place her whole life.
“Of course, dear! We’re always looking for hardworking staff here at Bella Muerte.”
The lady– who I now believe is the sweetest ever, reached for an application form on the desk beside her. I hesitantly handed her my folder which she took with a kind expression, her smile still lingering.
At least there was at most one nice person I’ve met today. With a huff of relief, I reached out for my neglected pen and started filling in the sections carefully.
As I wrote shakily, I really couldn't help but feel hesitant answering this. It was like I was slowly digging my own grave writing each letter–which was barely readable. My hands were shaky from both the relief of finally getting a job and the haunting atmosphere filling every corner of this lobby. Or a bit of everything really. It’s something I couldn't put my finger on.
I hated it.
I quickly signed the bottom of the form, feeling a dread pool somewhere– everywhere.
I’ve definitely signed my death certificate. If that was even fucking possible. I snapped out of my thoughts and gently took the form in my hands, glancing at the lady– whose name I still don’t know– hoping she’d notice me standing in front of her. To my relief, she does see me and smiles.
“Alright… Gerard Way, Yes?”
I nod, quickly putting on a small smile to imitate her– not in a bad way…Gosh, this was going to be the death of me one day.
“You start tomorrow, three PM, Okay dear? Oh, my manners!– Forgot to mention, My name is Mary. Alright? I’ll see you tomorrow!”
The lady chuckled, her eyes crinkling at the corners from both genuineness and her old age. I smile, unconsciously letting out a nervous chuckle as I quietly thank her. Just like that? Man, If only I found this place sooner.
Mary… hm? She does look like a Mary. I pushed the thoughts away and spun on my heel to head for the exit– another chill echoed down my spine.
God.
I paused for a moment, contemplating whether I was high or I was feeling things. It wasn’t just a draft, there weren’t any open windows or doors at all. I sigh gruffly, staring at my sneakers which felt nailed to the ground.
Where was I going anyway? Home was two hours away, I don’t think I could last any longer without a bed.
After a moment of contemplating my life decisions, I reluctantly spun on my heel again, hoping I could check in for one night. I was about to speak when I realized Mary wasn’t at the front desk like she was just seconds ago. I furrowed my brows and snapped my mouth close awkwardly–I didn’t think old people moved from one place to another that fast. No offense.
My hand found itself running through my jet black hair, leaving my fingers slightly shiny from the grease–I really haven’t gotten a good shower in a while. My gaze darted to my side, where the waiting area was.
But I really couldn’t last another second just standing here. I heavily made my way to the front desk again, pressing the service bell gingerly as an attempt to make it quiet– which obviously came off useless because the sound echoed, bounced off the walls, and ringed in my ears.
Nothing.
My foot tapped impatiently, Mary’s absence was starting to make me feel unsettling— not that I haven’t been feeling dread ever since I’ve stepped in this place.
Another draft of wind passes by me, whistling in my ear. I flinch, trying not to look stupid in front of nothing which again, was futile. Okay. Something was really fucking with me at this point. This was the most dread I’ve ever felt. I shouldn’t have watched all those horror movies as a kid. Well, they were a guilty pleasure–couldn’t help it.
I’m snapped out of my thoughts when one of the security guards from the corner of the lobby tapped me on the shoulder.
“Excuse me, Sir. Are you feeling alright?”
A security man with black, overgrown and side swept hair asks. He was quite the same height as me, his chin fairly stubbled. He wore a flat silver nameplate beside his security badge, reading ‘Bert M.’
I stared at the man for an awfully long time. My gaze told the man everything of my inner turmoil, all about mysterious drafts of wind or something as equally stupid. I realized my eyes were fixated at his forehead and quickly looked down at my beaten sneakers. Eye contact was most definitely the death of me in another life.
“Yea-Yeah. It’s just cold.” I nervously chuckled.
The other man nodded, chuckling gruffly. His throat sounded hoarse, like mine. All from cancer sticks.
“Are you applying here?”
“Yeah,”
The security guard glanced up at me with a skeptical stare, almost judging. Bert smirked with a strange glint in his eye,
“You feel dreaded, am I right? Normal here. This place is quite old. Story goes that some rocker used to come here to kill his victims inside the hotel rooms.”
“...What?”
I muttered in utter horror. My heart felt like it had abruptly stopped beating. I had just been recovering from my trance about spooky gushes of winds passing by me, and I’m pretty sure Bert had made it much, much worse.
Change of plans– I decided not to stay the night.
Hotel Bella Muerte was more dire than I really thought.
But I’ve already signed fates. What could I do about it?
~