Old Scars, Future Hearts

30

The teens exited the bus and stood around Coach. Marika glanced up at the building. CLGM GAqRI. She let out a frustrated sigh.

"Glen Capri," Stiles said.

"Listen up," Coach stated. "The meet's been pushed till tomorrow. This is the closest motel with the most vacancies and least amount of good judgment when it comes to accepting a bunch of degenerates like yourselves. You'll be pairing up. Choose wisely. And I'll have no sexual perversions perpetrated by you little deviants. Got that? Keep your dirty little hands to your dirty little selves!"

Lydia stared at the hotel blankly.

"Lydia?" Allison called.

She shook her head. "I don't like this place."

Marika nodded slowly. "Yeah, I'm guessing the people who own this place don't like it either."

Dmitri shrugged. "It's only for a night."

Lydia turned to him. "A lot can happen in one night."

Stiles, Dmitri and Scott headed to their room and Lydia, Allison and Marika head to theirs.

They entered the room and Marika's nose instantly turned up at at the smell of nicotine. "I'm gonna get new towels. Lydia?"

Together, the two made their way to the front office, leaving Allison alone in the room to shower. Marika walked up to the front desk. "Excuse me? The card on the dresser in our room says it's supposed to be non-smoking, but for some reason all our towels smell of nicotine."

The receptionist turned around, revealing a gray-haired woman with a floral dress and a red cardigan. Marika noticed she had a voice box to help her talk.

The receptionist smiled at the blonde. "Sorry about that, sweetheart."

Lydia pointed to a set of numbers. "What's that? That number?"

The receptionist glanced to what Lydia was pointing at. "It's a kind of inside thing for the motel. My husband insists on keeping it up."

Marika raised a brow. "I'm not sure we understand what you're getting at."

She chuckled. "It's a little morbid, to be honest. You sure you two want to know?"

Lydia nodded. "Tell us."

The receptionist stared up at them. "We're not gonna make the top of anyone's list when it comes to customer satisfaction."

"Obviously."

"But we are number one in California when it comes to one disturbing little detail. Since opening, more than any other motel in California, we have the most guest suicides."

"198?"

The receptionist nodded. "And counting."

The girls headed back to their room with new towels and Marika said to Allison, "So, apparently, there have been 198 suicides here."

"198?" Allison repeated.

Lydia nodded. "Yes, and we're talking 40 years. On average that's... 4.95 a year, which is... actually expected. But who commemorates that with a framed number? Who does that? Who?"

"All suicides?"

"Yes. Hanging, throat-cutting, pill-popping, both-barrels-of-a-shotgun-in-the-mouth suicides. I don't know about you, but me, I..."

Lydia stopped abruptly and turned to her friends after a moment. "Did you hear that?"

"Hear what?" Marika questioned.

"Lydia?" Allison said.

Lydia covered her mouth. "Oh, my God, oh, my God." She was silent for another moment. "Oh, my God." She climbed on the bed to get closer to the air vent.