Monachopsis

Cars blur as they speed down a nearby road. The rusted and chipped blue of my truck door groans as it closes. The warm breeze of a cloudless day rushes over my skin as it is finally exposed to the outside. I readjust the heavy backpack on my shoulder as I hand over my keys to the waiting valet.

It isn’t often that I immerse myself in the luxuries and opulence of a vacation. Let alone a hotel. But the last few months and their nonstop disastrous events have caused me to feel as though I need a reprieve. Plus, it has allowed me to think of anything other than the future.

Tall metal doors open as if by magic, their glass reflecting the sun and opening into the lobby. Cool air washes over my sweaty skin as a man rushes over to me.

“Miss? You forgot your suitcase.” He sets it down next to me.

“Wouldn’t want to do that,” I reply as I grip it tightly, giving him a small smile.

My sandals smack along the tiled marble floor as I make my way to the counter. Other women saunter by with their sleek heels clicking delicately, and their bags wearing the names of expensive designers. My face burns as I finally reach the counter. I check in, and the man behind it hands me my key, straightening his velvet blazer.

I readjust the duct taped suitcase in my grip, rushing towards a partially open elevator. One of the women that had passed by me slips through the doors, looking as though they weren't about to close on her. She basically drips elegance, or more like exactly how I have always imagined that phrase would look. She almost brings an air of sophistication to the noticeably sweet-smelling elevator. Her freshly polished nails tap against her arm as she crosses them. She gives me a quick smile as we reach her floor. It disappears as soon as she steps onto the patterned carpet. I’m surprised she spared even a glance at me, let alone a smile. I’m used to being invisible.

I finally reach my own floor with a sigh of relief. Tight places typically make me feel queasy. My relief fades quickly as I look around. The hallway feels almost suffocating as both I and my suitcase drag along its length. The ceilings are low, and the walls seem forever. I start to question whether I should run out of the building as it opens into another area. A striped chair sits in the corner, and the shadows of a large window rest across it. I ease onto the chair, expecting it to be hard and uncomfortable, but I slump into it as its plush cushion envelops me. Trees sway in the wind as I lose track of time in their hypnotizing movements.

Eventually my phone beeps. Probably a call from one of my coworkers checking up on me. I never go on vacations. I don’t typically take time off. I don’t typically leave where I live.

I pull the thin key card from my pocket, swiping it across the door handle. It turns green, signaling that I can enter. I push it open, revealing a room covered entirely in white. The smell of citrus and cleaning chemicals cloud the room.

I leave my bags at the door as I search the closet for a suitcase stand. The metal legs create a dent in the carpet as I set it near the bed. My hands still shake slightly as I check the lock on the suitcase. I fall onto the downy warmth of the bed. Despite my objections, my eyes start to drift closed, the day of traveling wearing down on me.

***

My bleary eyes slowly open as they search the now darkened room. I turn on the lamp hanging above the bedside table, eyes still adjusting as they read 2:00 on my phone's screen. I slept a lot longer than I intended to. Made especially evident as my stomach grumbles. I run a hand through my hair before walking over to the mini fridge. A bag of chocolate chip cookies sits beside the many bottles of fancy water. I finish the bag off quickly before throwing it into the trash. The curtains of the balcony door rustle as I pull them closed over the glass.

I pick my suitcase off the stand and set it on the floor. A small puddle sits on the colorful carpet. I pick at the skin around my nail before deciding that no one will have trouble cleaning it with how much I am paying for the room. I find myself once again growing faint on the walk from my room to the elevator. A classical tune greets me as the elevator shudders down the many floors to the lobby. It opens with a ding, and I follow the back hallway to an exit. I drag my suitcase across the gravel of the parking lot where a sign indicates valet parking.

I fish the spare key out of my pocket before throwing my battered suitcase onto the truck bed. It barely makes a thud against the rubber mats I situated there for such an occasion. The aged vehicle looks dingy beside the freshly polished and expensive cars that cover every row around it. I insert the key into the ignition and the roar of the engine scatters my thoughts. I shake my head as I drive into the humid night.

The GPS on my phone beeps as an indication of what streets to pass and which to turn onto. The truck eventually grumbles to a stop. The beach before me shimmers as the moon casts a ghastly glow over its expanse.

I empty the contents of my black, stain covered suitcase into the water, watching the other side of my life sink beneath the waves. A shame, but I breathe a sigh of relief at letting my past disappear. It gives me the opportunity to start over.

The thought incites a dream to fill my head. That maybe I could start over and never go back home. That I could leave everything behind. Not just physically, but mentally too. Including certain people and certain events.

I sigh as I throw my suitcase back into the car and drive back to the hotel. It's sign glows even brighter against the night sky as I approach the entrance. I leave the car in guest parking and find my way back to my room.

I peek in the room before locking the door shut behind me. I dig through my backpack for my tattered pajamas. The bathroom light shines so brightly that I have to stand there and blink for a second before continuing to turn on the shower. Steam fills the room and fogs the mirror. Tiny bottles sit on a metal tray near the sink. I pick up the shampoo, conditioner, and body wash to place on the rim of the tub. I inspect the labels, and I'm not surprised that I don't recognize the brand. I don't spend too long in the shower, quickly lathering my hair and body in the strong floral scent.

I settle beneath the pristine sheets and turn on the television to the news channel. The sound fades to a dim hum as I let oblivion take hold of my mind once more.

***

Mist scatters the blaring red and blue lights. The crowd chatters over the blaring sirens. Their boots stomp along the floor. Their belts jingle as all the weapons and handcuffs on them clink against each other. They look around for evidence. Dogs run around, their noses sniffing along every surface in search of clues. Suddenly those heavy boots and clinking belts stop before me. Their eyes filled with rage and a kind of hatred that can only be acquired through the passage of years.

My heart races as I blink into the empty hotel room. Light shines through the sheer curtains, making me feel slightly better about my nightmare. My gaze flicks toward the television as a newscaster shows a picture of a serial killer they are looking for nearby. My phone buzzes so I check it, only to find a scam message. It's never just a simple text from an acquaintance. I don't have friends either. I don't really want any.

I ruffle through the meager contents of my backpack, pulling out a hole covered pair of jeans and a short sleeved black top. I throw a thin sweater over my arm as my next stop will be a little cooler. I grab my backpack and suitcase before allowing the door to slide shut. Excited to leave this fear inducing hallway behind, I hurry to the front desk to check out. I only needed a day here.

I approach the counter slowly, taking the time to admire the lobby one more time before I leave. It’s crystal chandelier sparkles among the presence of shades of white and gold. I notice the different seating arrangements that fill the room as a group of men in suits pass. Most likely on their way to one of the rooms for a business meeting. Something else catches my eye, though. Someone, to be more specific. The man that has wanted my arrest ever since he learned who I was. And what I did.

Suddenly those familiar lights and sounds flood the room. My hands are wrenched behind my back and handcuffs are clicked tightly around my wrists. Suddenly my suitcase is beside me. Suddenly it's open. Suddenly they all gasp as blood pools onto the once white tile, explaining to them what exactly was once in that suitcase. The very thing I dumped into that body of water not hours before.

I'm yanked onto my feet as his cold blue eyes stare into my warm brown ones.

"Female serial killers are rare, Miss Hayes." The officers around me turn toward us as the detective leans in closely. "What is even more rare, though, is catching one."