Chapter 3

The sun filtered in through the hotel window, conveniently landing on my face. I supposed it was a good thing since the stupid front desk forgot to give me my wake up call. I'd have to skip breakfast. Skipping breakfast was not a good start. Hungry self wasn't a pleasant person. Hungry self would be no good at meeting new people.

I looked to my left and huffed out an angry breath. The message from the night before had disappeared, only to be replaced by a new one.

Good Morning

Good- fucking- morning.

"This-is-not-a-good-morning," I growled at the air. Why the hell was this thing back, and why was it acting so different? Lifting both hands, I proceeded to flip off every direction within the room. I wasn't worried about making it mad anymore. I had nothing to lose. As far as I was concerned, we were at war. I'd never been a violent person. If I was, I would have never made it into college in the first place, considering I had plenty of justifiable instances for violence with my peers at school.

With one last glare at the wall, I gathered my bags and left, making sure to slam the door behind me. When I reached the front desk, a girl was sitting behind the counter playing on her phone and popping her gum.

"I'd like to check out, please," I said.

She didn't hear me.

I ground my teeth, took a breath, and forced my voice to stay pleasant. "I'd like to check out, please."

She sat up straight, then pulled her chair closer to the computer without so much as a glance in my direction. "Name?"

"Amelia Snow," I stated flatly, more than ready to get out of there. I watched as she began typing my name into the computer. Her fake nails clicked away at the keys, and I studied the glittery acrylic in fascination. How does someone function with nails as long as hers?

"That's gonna be an additional fifty dollars for the phone calls you made," she said, popping her gum as she finally looked up at me.

"What phone calls?" I didn't have time for this. "I didn't make any."

"It says right here that you made eight phone calls between the hours of two am and four am."

I felt strangely bear-like, and envisioned the girl before me holding a stick, poking me as she bellowed out loud, cackling laughter.

"I'm just going by what the computer says, ma'am," she said, interrupting my strange daydreaming.

"Where were the calls placed to?" I asked.

"I'm not allowed to access your private phone calls, ma'am. All I can see is that the calls were placed, and how long each call was." She seemed annoyed that I kept questioning her.

"There has to be a mistake here. Why would I pay to use the hotel phone? I have a cell phone I can use if I need to make a call, and like I said, I was asleep."

"Maybe I should have the manager come and help you, ma'am," she said, then without waiting for an answer, she got up and stepped through the little door behind her.

I waited, staring at the clock hanging on the wall, running through how much of a shit I was going to look like when I showed up late to view the house. The landlord would hate me. Things would be weird for the entire time I lived there. He'd probably think I'm some kind of irresponsible college kid, hell-bent on destroying the place with wild late-night parties.

An older woman in a black pencil skirt and jacket exited the same door, interrupting my thoughts. Her grey hair was tied back into a tight bun, and I noticed her nametag had the name Betty etched into it.

"What seems to be the problem, Miss?" she asked with an expression that looked both tired and annoyed, hidden poorly behind a false smile.

"The problem is me being charged for calls I never made. On top of that, I have somewhere I have to be, and since the front desk neglected to give me my wake up call, I'm already running late. Now, if you could please figure out whatever the mistake is so I can be on my way, I would really appreciate it." My eyes hit the clock again, and I was close to begging. Maybe I should just pay? That thought made me cringe. My mother wasn't rich by any means, and I couldn't imagine just throwing away an extra fifty when it wasn't necessary.

"Why didn't you just set the alarm on your cell phone," the girl from before asked in a snotty tone. I hadn't even noticed her come out of the back.

It was all I could do to keep from jumping over the counter. The woman gave the girl a scolding look before turning back to me.

She took a moment to study her computer, then asked, "Are you Amelia Snow?"

"Yes."

"Miss, I made your wake up call myself. I remember because I thought it odd when your gentleman friend answered the phone. I wasn't aware that you would have more than one occupant in the room. Maybe he made the phone calls last night. If so, you should have him..."

I stopped listening. What did she mean a man answered the phone? A chill ran down my spine, and I felt a sudden, deep need to get away. The money I snatched from my purse was more than what was needed for the charges, but the hell if I cared. The old woman's face filled with a more genuine concern at my change in behavior, but I didn't stick around for it.

The monster made phone calls? He'd actually answered the phone, spoken to the front desk, like a real damn thing?

I wasn't crazy.

It was real, and it... helped me. It saved my life, then, this morning...

Was that message the equivalent of a good morning text? Did a supernatural fucking thing just send me a wake up text. "Jesus Christ," I muttered. Who the hell could it possibly have to call?

I was so lost in my thoughts, I didn't watch where I was going. My feet left the curb, placing me right in the path of a car making its way through the lot. I watched it approach in a state of shock, like an idiot, completely lacking any of the sense needed to get out of the way. Just before it could make impact, something hit me from behind and sent me spiraling forward, out of the path of distruction and onto the hard concrete.

It hurt, dammit if it didn't hurt, but I can imagine it felt better than a car would have.

With shaking legs, I pushed myself up and looked around. Of course, not a soul was around to thank for the sudden rescue.

The heavy set man inside the car rolled his window down and asked me if I was okay. I nodded my head, waved him off, and hurried to my car.

Normal life. The concept seemed more foreign than ever. How could I do that now? How could I do anything, accomplish anything, with this kind of shit coming at me every five seconds?

I left the lot in an even worse mood than I'd woken up with. The war was raging, and I had no way of knowing what I was up against.

👻👻👻

When I pulled up to my new house, another car already sat in the driveway. I wasn't surprised, since I was almost forty minutes late.

I quickly stepped out of the car and hurried to meet my new landlord. The house was small, but I didn't think I needed a big house anyway. No, this place was perfect for me. Cozy. The outside was painted a light blue, and there were white shutters on either side of each window. My eyes went to the front door and the beautiful porch, which was also painted white, leading to it.

Butterflies fluttered in my stomach as I watched the front door start to open. I was nervous. Meeting anyone never appealed to me, and meeting a landlord seemed even more stressful.

The man that stepped out of the house was definitely not what I was expecting. I had never in my life seen someone so attractive. He must have been at least six foot five and... big. Broad shoulders fit snuggly inside the material of his black dress shirt. Large Arms and a wide chest tapered down into narrow hips hugged loosely by a pair of dark washed jeans.

Realizing where my eyes had roamed, I jerked my head up. Dammit, I was staring at his junk. I just stared at his junk. How could I just blatantly ogle him like that? Reluctantly, I met his gaze and found two dark brown eyes laughing at me.

So... pretty.

With a mental shake, I stepped forward to meet him halfway and extended a hand, like normal people do when they meet someone.

"Hello, Amelia. It's a pleasure to finally meet you," he said, his voice fitting the rest of him.

Somehow, I doubted the statement. I wasn't a nice person to meet on a good day. I supposed staring at junk wasn't the worst thing I could have done, though. "It's nice to meet you, too."

"I'm Brady. Ready to see the rest?"

My eyes widened, and I choked. Was he really offering? I couldn't help but let my gaze drift, and a low chuckle came in response.

"The house?"

"Oh shit!" I threw a hand over my mouth. "I mean, yes, of course. The house."

Brady chuckled again before taking my arm and leading me towards the steps.

I peeked around as excitement filled my chest. My first place. It was basic. Small living room, mix matched couches. Sun poured in through one large bay window, dust motes dancing within the rays, and the atmosphere was humid like it hadn't been aired in quite a while.

To my left, a galley kitchen lead to a small dining room, forming an L shape that made it seem even smaller, but I decided I loved it despite its size. It was mine. My place. New, and fresh, and untainted.

"The bedrooms are back here," Brady said, leading me through the little hall straight ahead of us.

I followed him, ducking my head into the first doorway, then the second right beside it. Both were bedrooms, and both were fully furnished with double beds, nightstands, dressers, and all.

"That one's the master. Its not much bigger but it has a walk-in closet," Brady said, signifying the second doorway.

"It's perfect," I said.

"I'd have to agree." He sounded huskier than before, and I turned to find him staring at me.

Abort mission.

"The bathroom?" I darted past him.

Brady followed, keeping a distance I was grateful of. Too intense.

With a quick peek into the small bathroom, I quickly darted towards the front door and escaped onto the porch. Maybe I was being paranoid because of everything that had happened the past couple days. I pretended to admire the other houses on the street until I could get myself under control. I needed to relax. Maybe I'd start meditating. It sounded like a pretty good idea to me. Meditating definitely couldn't hurt.

"I'm sorry," Brady said suddenly, drawing my attention.

I side-eyed him. He took another step forward and leaned against the porch railing. "I was staring. I apologize."

My breath caught. He was staring? At me? Should I apologize for looking at his junk? No. No, don't do that. I laughed nervously. "It's okay."

Brady smiled, and dammit, it made him even more attractive. How is he even possible? Men didn't look like that. Not in real life.

"You're probably going to need some time to unpack. Would you let me take you to dinner? That way you won't have to worry about dishes, and all that..."

I cut him off. "Are you asking me out?"

He grinned sheepishly. "Maybe... Do you think that's creepy? I swear, I don't usually ask out my tenants."

"Then... why are you?" I stared at him.

Brady smiled that blinding smile once again. "You're beautiful, sweetheart."

I melted. Holy shit. I'm a puddle. I'd be lying if I said I wasn't shocked that a man as gorgeous as this wanted to take me out. I'd never actually been on a date before. Being the pariah in my highschool hadn't exactly done me any favors for my love life, or lack of one rather. There had only ever been one guy I liked, and that had gone horribly wrong before it had a chance to even begin.

I was fifteen. His name was Steven. He was in all of my classes at school, and although we never really spoke, he never made jokes or played pranks on me the way the other guys did.

So when all the people in our grade were invited to Jessica Martin's sweet sixteen birthday party, I was excited that Steven would be there.

I'd really tried that day, worn a dress, spent an hour on my make up, trying to make it just right. I must have done okay, because when I got to the party, I felt everyone staring at me, and not for their usual reasons.

Guys that were typically dicks, actually started being nice to me.

I'd been so happy, so hopeful. I'd thought that maybe people were starting to forget. Maybe they'd finally move past the things they thought about me.

About half way through the party, Jessica announced that we were all going to play seven minutes in heaven. She had us all write our names on a piece of paper, that was then placed into one of two hats. A baseball cap for the guys and an old cowboy hat for the girls. When it was done, we all found a place to sit on the living room floor.

Jessica stood in front of us all, a hat in each hand as she explained the rules of the game. "Okay, everyone. This is how it works. I'll draw one name out of each hat, and whoever's name is drawn will spend seven minutes together in that closet." She pointed to her right, to the large entry way closet.

I remember the foreboding, the sick feeling. For years I'd been avoiding closets like the plague. All of my clothes remained folded in dresser drawers. I kept nothing in there, and each night I'd place a chair under the doorknob just to be safe. I nervously looked around the room to see if anyone had noticed my reaction, but they all seemed too focused on Jessica.

I looked back up just as she was pulling the first name from the hat. "Steven." A chorus of obnoxious noises came from every guy within the room as they patted him on the back.

My breath caught in my throat as I watched Jessica begin to pull a name out of the other hat.

Please don't pick me.

Please don't pick me.

Please don't pick me.

"Amelia," she'd said, and the look on her face let me know she was loving every minute of it.

Unwilling to admit my fear, I'd stood and made my way over. I could hear the girls snickering, but it was quickly drowned out by the guys in the room.

Steven gave me a sympathetic smile and put an arm around my shoulder as we stepped inside. He closed the door behind us, then turned so he was facing me and sat indian style onto the floor.

I copied his actions, placing myself directly in front of him. Inside, I was a mess. My heart was pounding, my palms were sweaty, and it was all I could do not to panic.

"Don't worry, I don't expect you to do anything," he'd reassured me.

I laughed. That was definitely not what I was worried about. His expression looked hurt for a moment as he misunderstood why I found humor in the statement.

"It's not that– I–" What was I supposed to say? I couldn't exactly tell him the truth. He'd never speak to me again. Or, worse, he'd become just like them. He'd know. I was the crazy girl, the girl who's afraid that if she turns the lights off at night a monster will come out of her closet and get her.

"What?" he asked.

"I really like you, Steven," I said, quickly putting my head down to hide my burning cheeks. It had been the truth and way less embarrassing to admit.

His hand reached forward and caressed my cheek as he leaned closer. "I like you too," he said, then before I could react, his lips met mine.

I remember how happy I was for that moment. For that small moment, someone liked me. For that moment, Steven wasn't worried about what everyone said about me. He wasn't worried about my fears. That moment was the moment of my first kiss, and a moment later it all went wrong.

I glanced at the space behind Steve, and a pair of familiar red eyes stared back at me. They were the same glowing red orbs that filled my own closet, only different. This set of eyes held a rage that I couldn't describe and had never seen before.

Steven jerked away as I began to scream, but I didn't wait around to explain before almost taking the door out in my fight to escape.

"What the hell? What's wrong?" Steven yelled, frantically looking behind him to find nothing there.

I looked around at the room full of people laughing at me. Tears stung my eyes, and white noise echoed inside my ears, like a dream.

Like a Nightmare.

The last thing I heard was Steven saying, "You were right man, that chick is crazy."

I never talked to another boy after that. Until now.

A gorgeous man was standing in front of me, patiently waiting for an answer. Was it weird to go on a date with my landlord?

"Don't you think it might create a... conflict of interests?" I asked, trying to keep my voice level.

Brady grinned and took my hand. Tingles of electricity shot up my arm at the contact, and I had to fight not to shudder.

"I normally wouldn't, but.. well... I promise if you decide you don't want to go out on a second date, I won't make it weird."

"Wouldn't it just be weird? You wouldn't really be able to make it not weird, would you?" Why am I arguing? Why am I still talking? Why haven't I agreed yet?

This man was sin on a stick. A sinsicle. I wasn't going to find a box of him in the freezer section.

"Say yes, Amelia."

"Yes." Wait. What the fuck?

"I'll pick you up at eight," he said, already walking away.

I watched him go, wondering why I'd just done that and receiving my answer in the view. "You can do this. It's just a date," I whispered to myself, not believing a word I said.