by Amy Cross
Reaching me, he puts his hands on my shoulders, and for a moment he simply stares into my eyes. I wait for him to say something, but as the seconds pass I start to realize that he seems really worried. I guess I can't really blame him. This vacation was supposed to help me sort my head out, but instead I've arguably managed to get even worse. It's as if I'm teetering on the edge of some kind of breakdown.
“What?” I ask finally, feeling a little uncomfortable. “Jason, I'm sorry if I've been -”
“You don't have anything to be sorry about,” he tells me. “I just hope you know you can be completely honest with me. About everything. If there's something on your mind, something that's worrying you, I want you to know that you can tell me. No matter how strange it might seem, no matter how worried you might be, you can tell me anything. I want to help you, if something feels wrong.”
“Of course,” I reply. “I do know that.”
“Before it's too late,” he adds.
I wait for him to continue, but now he's just staring at me again.
“Too late?” I ask. “Why... I mean, what do you mean?”
“If there's anything on your mind,” he replies, “now would be a good time to tell me. That's all.”
“There's nothing on my mind,” I say cautiously, even though I'm not being entirely honest. “I mean, obviously there's stuff on my mind, but it's nothing worth sharing.”
How could I share it? How could I tell him about that weird hallucination earlier, when I imagined Michelle covered in blood? How could I tell him about the screams I thought I heard while we were in the castle? How could I go into detail about my insane dream from last night? At the same time, I need to get all those things out of my head, because so far I'm doing a really bad job of hiding them.
Before I can say anything, however, I hear a door banging in the distance. Jason and I both turn just in time to see that Michelle and her husband are coming through to use the pool.
As she walks over to one of the loungers, Michelle glances at me and smiles.
“Great,” Jason says quietly, “I guess the peace and solitude couldn't last forever, could it?”
“I'm fine,” I reply, turning to him. “Honestly. In fact, I don't think I've ever been better. And that's really down to you, because you're the one who's kept me sane and strong through all of this. I haven't thanked you enough, but I should have done. You pretty much saved my life, Jason. I honestly don't think I'd be here without you.”
“Of course you would,” he says, “but I'm definitely glad that you let me come along with you for the ride.”
Behind me, there's a rippling sound as someone slides into the water at the other end of the pool.
“When we get home,” I continue, “I'm going to be a better person.”
“Katie,” he says with a smile, “you don't need to -”
“I'm going to be a better wife,” I add, “and a better... everything.”
“You realize you're already perfect, don't you?”
“I'm going to be a better -”
Stopping suddenly, I feel as if there's a block in my mind, as if my thoughts have suddenly been prevented from going down a certain avenue. I try to push past, I try to force myself to remember, but the block is too strong and too powerful.
Behind me, someone is slowly swimming toward us.
“I'm going to...”
My voice trails off as I realize that I'm not sure how to complete that sentence.
“Jason,” I say cautiously, “I know this is going to sound strange and maybe a little bit scary, but... I can't remember what I do for a living.”
He tilts his head slightly, studying my face.
“What's my job?” I ask, trying very hard to not panic. “Jason, where do we live? I can't remember what our house looks like, or where it is. And what do you do?”
I pause.
Someone is swimming closer and closer.
“We don't have children, do we?” I continue, as I realize that I can barely remember anything from before we arrived at the hotel. “No, we don't. I'd remember that, wouldn't I? I mean, nobody could forget something like that.”
I take a deep breath, but my head still feels wrong.
“And we don't have pets,” I add. “Or do we? Do we have a dog?”
Reaching up, I touch the scar on my face.
“How did I get this?” I ask.
“Katie,” Jason replies, “you're stressing about things. There's really no need.”
“I don't know who I am,” I tell him, as I feel the panic getting stronger and larger in my chest, spreading out to fill my entire body. “Jason, I don't remember anything!”
“I think you need to calm down,” he says firmly.
“How did I get the scar?”
He sighs.
Behind me, someone is still swimming. They sound so close now, they must be about to bump into me.
“I don't remember anything,” I stammer. “The first thing I remember, the very first thing, is... getting out of the taxi when we arrived here at the hotel. You asked me how I sleep, you made some crack about me being pretty, but I don't remember a single thing from before that moment. I don't remember being on a plane, and I don't remember being at home. Jason, I -”
Water splashes against the back of my neck.
I turn around, but there's nobody there.
And then, after a moment, Michelle pushes up and breaks the surface just a few feet away, and I watch as she slicks her hair back and grins at me. There's water all over her body, with little droplets dancing in the light.
“Oh, hey,” she says, “sorry, I didn't mean to come so close. I thought I was going over to the other corner. I forgot my goggles.”
Staring at her, as reflected light ripples in blue and white patterns against her skin, I can't help but think back to the image of her covered in blood.
“That's okay,” Jason says stiffly after a moment, “my wife and I were just having a conversation.”
“Then I can only apologize if I interrupted,” Michelle replies.
“That's fine,” Jason says, “but we'd like to continue now, if you don't mind.”
“Of course. I'm so terribly sorry.”
Michelle stares at me for a moment, before turning and starting to swim slowly and serenely away. I watch her for a few seconds, and then I turn to Jason again.
“You've been through a lot,” he says, “and it's natural that you find things a little difficult. Now, we could go over everything in great detail, or we could just relax for the rest of our vacation. I mean, you do actually remember your life, don't you?”
“I...”
I hesitate, and in that moment I realize that I remember some of it. Not everything, but enough to set me at ease. I'm a little hazy on the details, but at least I have a sense of who I am again. I remember my parents, and I remember some things from my childhood.
Suddenly Jason looks past me, and I turn to see that Henri from reception is standing at the other end of the pool, watching us.
“I have to go and have a quick word with someone about something,” Jason tells me. “How about we both get dry, and I'll meet you out in the lobby?”
I turn to him.
“What's wrong?” I ask.
“Nothing. Probably just another sales thing, but I want to keep on their good side.” He gives me a kiss on the cheek, but I can tell that he's worried. “Dry off, honey. I want our last night here to be perfect.”
Twenty-One
A quick word with someone about something.
As I sit in the changing room and replay Jason's words over and over in my mind, I can't help thinking that he's hiding something from me. I very nearly challenged him there and then, I very nearly insisted on going with him to speak to this manager, but at the last second I backed down. Now I really wish that I hadn't, because I'm sitting here with so many thoughts and worries rushing through my head.
Something's not right.
Hearing bare foots
teps slapping against the wet floor, I turn just in time to see that Michelle has come through from the pool.
“Hey,” she says with a smile as she heads to her locker, “I hope we didn't disturb you two lovebirds earlier. If we'd known you were in there, we wouldn't have come in. We could have done our swimming later.”
“It's fine,” I reply. “The pool's for everyone, right?”
“We only wanted a dip,” she says, and suddenly she starts slipping out of her costume.
Before I really know how to react, she's standing completely naked in front of me. This woman certainly doesn't seem to be very shy.
“Is this your last day here?” she asks.
“Uh, yes,” I say, trying very hard to keep from looking at her body. She's only a few feet away from me, so it's kind of difficult to not stare.
“Us too,” she replies. “It's just a short weekend trip, really. A chance to relax and recharge our batteries. You have no idea how much I need this break right now.”
She turns and bends down, reaching into her bag. I can't help looking at her breasts and noticing that they're exactly the same as I imagined them in my hallucination.
“Have you been to a Hotel Necro location before?” she asks.
“No,” I reply. “I didn't know it was a chain.”
“Oh, they have a few,” she says airily, as if she's just chatting completely casually. “This is the first time we've been to this one, but we've tried quite a few of their other locations over the years. I know that might sound boring, but Dan and I are of the opinion that once you find something you really like, it doesn't make sense to keep searching for a place that's even better. And I have to admit, there's nowhere else quite like Hotel Necro. There's something so luxurious and exclusive about their brand.”
“It seems really nice,” I reply, as I start getting ready to leave.
Michelle takes a newspaper from her bag and sets it on the bench, and I can't help noticing the headline:
TECH CEO NOT MISSING INSISTS COMPANY AFTER MONTH-LONG SILENCE.
It's funny, but I don't think I've checked the news once since we got here. That's pretty unusual for me, I think. Or is it? I feel like the sort of person who'd like to know what's going on in the world, but – again – I can't really be sure. Everything from before we arrived here just seems kind of... hazy.
“It's so good to get away from everything, isn't it?” Michelle says after a moment, as she starts drying herself with a towel. “You know, I honestly think that a weekend here is enough to help me deal with the world for the next six months. And then I guess Dan and I will book ourselves right back in for another session.” She smiles again. “That's the problem, really. You start to rely on these little luxuries. Did you know, if you book your next stay within a month of checking out, they give you a discount?”
“That sounds good,” I reply, before getting to my feet. “I hope you enjoy the rest of your stay. I have to go and meet my husband now.”
I turn and head toward the door.
“See you tonight,” Michelle says.
I stop and glance back at her.
“Maybe, I mean,” she adds. “Maybe see you tonight. If we're lucky.”
Twenty-Two
One hour later, sitting all alone in the lobby, I check my watch again and I realize that Jason doesn't seem to be coming. I've tried calling him, but his phone is off. I'm sure he said to meet here, but I guess it's possible that I misheard and he wanted to meet in the room instead. And to be honest, I'm getting a little sick of sitting around and waiting.
Sighing, I get to my feet and head toward the stairs.
Twenty-Three
“Jason?” I call out as I step into the room and set my bag down. “Honey, are you here?”
I let the door swing shut, but I can already tell that I'm alone. I head over and look at the bed, and then I take a look in the bathroom, but there's still no sign of him. I try calling again, but his phone remains off, and finally I stop and try to figure out what's happening.
Deep down, I can feel a flicker of worry in my gut, but I tell myself that he's just been delayed. Or, knowing Jason, he's headed out to concoct some grand romantic gesture for our final night here. So, instead of allowing myself to keep worrying, I grab my book and head over to the bed. Maybe, after everything that's been happening lately, it'd be good to have a few hours on my own.
I might even finally get my head straight.
Twenty-Four
“No, that's fine,” I say over the phone, as I stand at the bedroom window and look out at the city. Rain is falling now, and the streets are pretty empty. “I just wanted to check whether my husband had left a message for me, that's all.”
“There are no messages, I'm afraid,” Henri replies. “Is there anything else I can help you with, M'am?”
“No, that was all,” I tell him. “Thank you.”
Cutting the call, I set the phone down and then I turn and look back out across the city. The weather out there is getting worse by the minute, and I keep hoping that I might spot Jason hurrying this way through the rain. His jacket is hanging in the wardrobe, but I guess maybe he simply wasn't expecting to be out for this long. I know that Jason's more than capable of taking care of himself, and I know I shouldn't worry, but I still can't rid myself of a nagging suspicion that maybe something really is wrong.
Suddenly remembering the safe in the wardrobe, I head over and type in the combination. When I look inside, I see that Jason's wallet is still in there. He put it there before we went down to the pool, and he'd certainly need to take it with him if he left the hotel. So I guess he's not out shopping.
“Where are you?” I whisper, still trying to suppress my sense of concern.
I stare into the safe for a moment longer, before turning and heading to the bathroom. As I walk, I make a decision. It's a little after 5pm right now. If Jason isn't back in one hour, I'm going to have to start thinking seriously about calling the police.
Twenty-Five
“Answer the phone, damn you,” I mutter as I pace back and forth across the room. “Come on, you're really starting to scare me.”
Once again, however, the call is diverted straight to Jason's voicemail, and this time I figure that there's no point leaving yet another anxious message. I cut the call, and then I turn and look at the window as rain falls more heavily than ever. A moment after that, I glance at the clock next to the bed, and my heart sinks as I see that it's now almost 7pm. I'm well past the deadline I set for myself earlier, and I think it's finally time to accept that something's wrong.
My husband is missing.
I hesitate for a moment longer, and then – filled with a growing sense of panic – I grab my bag and hurry across the room. I pull the door open and start to step out into the corridor, only to slam straight into Jason.
“Where have you been?” I gasp, stunned but also hugely relieved to see him.
I wait, but he simply stares at me.
He looks upset, with a hint of tears in his eyes.
“Where have you been?” I ask again, but my relief is starting to turn to fresh dread. “Jason, talk to me. What happened?”
“Nothing,” he murmurs, before stepping into the room and carefully shutting the door.
“You've been gone for hours!” I point out. “I tried calling you!”
“My phone must be out of battery.”
“Where were you? Were you in the hotel? Did you go out somewhere?”
“I've been around,” he replies, but he still seems strangely drained, almost blank. “I had something to do.”
He makes his way past me, heading to the desk in the corner of the room.
“I was terrified!” I say finally, no longer worried about whether or not I sound crazy. “I was imagining all these awful things that might have happened to you! I was about to call the police!”
I wait, but he's busy connecting his phone to a charger. It's almost as if he didn't even hear me.
�
�I want to know what you've been doing for the past few hours,” I continue. “Jason, I want to know where you went.”
He mumbles something, but I can't quite make out the words.
“Jason,” I say, stepping up behind him, “what -”
Suddenly he grabs the vase from the desk and throw it across the room, sending it smashing into the wall. I stare, shocked by his outburst, but then I remember that this – or something very similar – happened in my dream last night. I heard Jason destroying something in a fit of anger, and now as he turns to me I realize that he's struggling to contain his fury. For a few seconds, he seems to be almost boiling over with rage, and then finally he sighs and puts his hands over his face.
“Jason,” I stammer, “I...”
I hesitate for a moment, before taking a step back. All day, I've been telling myself that the dream was just a dream, but Jason's outburst is making me think again. I want to ask him what's really happening, but finally I turn and hurry into the bathroom. Heading to my toiletry bag, I pull it open and start rooting around inside, but sure enough the little red pill is gone now. It must have been removed at some point after we went out this morning.
My mind is racing.
I pause, before pulling my pants down and taking another look at the puncture marks on my left leg. They're real, they're right there, they're...
Proof?
But if the marks are real, then that means that the dream...
“Looking for something?” Jason asks.
I turn and see him watching me from the doorway. He looks so anxious, and so disappointed. He looks like a man who's in serious trouble.
“Why did you do it, Katie?” he continues, as I pull my pants back up. “Everything was arranged, it was supposed to be easy. You just had to take your pills, and the whole trip would have been fine.”
