Hannah's Bed and Breakfast (Foggy World)
The entry dazzles her briefly. It isn't the run-of-the-mill graffiti she's used to in abandoned places. When she looks away, she can't shake the feeling that it changes and moves.
A counter to the right holds a guestbook, and she glances over it, hand jammed firmly in her pocket. A set of names snags her attention:
Mitchell Green
Natalie Green
Selena Green
It takes a moment for her to dredge up where the name came from. Her skin prickles when she does, and looks over the article again.
There's a different kind of paper barely peeking out from beneath the registry. Amber tugs it out.
Green again. Burns. Missing people.
Not like it means anything, she reminds herself, stuffing the note in her bag anyway. Keep going, dumbshit. Gotta be a way through. She's not completely sure why she wants through, other than the fact that if she stops to rest, she'll start thinking, and wondering about Rachel, and trying to understand the nightmare she's in, and she'll probably break down.
Breaking down is not an option. Breaking down is only an option if you're safe and alone. She only has half of those criteria. (And she's hoping that half might go away at any moment, with Rachel popping up from wherever and flying off with her. Amber does not really want to acknowledge this fantasy, even as it hovers warmly at the edge of her thoughts.)
The rooms are mostly empty, except for the dizzying writing. Then, she finds one still-furnished room near the back. A trio of suitcases sit by the far wall. Clothing is still in the drawers.
Another clipping is on the bed.
"What the fuck is with all these dead people?" she growls in frustration, turning to address the scrawl on the walls. "Is this a threat? Huh? Who's fucking with me? WHAT DO YOU WANT?!"
Silence.
Amber collapses onto the bed, hands pressed against her face.
"rachel...
" ...mom...."
A counter to the right holds a guestbook, and she glances over it, hand jammed firmly in her pocket. A set of names snags her attention:
Mitchell Green
Natalie Green
Selena Green
It takes a moment for her to dredge up where the name came from. Her skin prickles when she does, and looks over the article again.
There's a different kind of paper barely peeking out from beneath the registry. Amber tugs it out.
Green again. Burns. Missing people.
Not like it means anything, she reminds herself, stuffing the note in her bag anyway. Keep going, dumbshit. Gotta be a way through. She's not completely sure why she wants through, other than the fact that if she stops to rest, she'll start thinking, and wondering about Rachel, and trying to understand the nightmare she's in, and she'll probably break down.
Breaking down is not an option. Breaking down is only an option if you're safe and alone. She only has half of those criteria. (And she's hoping that half might go away at any moment, with Rachel popping up from wherever and flying off with her. Amber does not really want to acknowledge this fantasy, even as it hovers warmly at the edge of her thoughts.)
The rooms are mostly empty, except for the dizzying writing. Then, she finds one still-furnished room near the back. A trio of suitcases sit by the far wall. Clothing is still in the drawers.
Another clipping is on the bed.
"What the fuck is with all these dead people?" she growls in frustration, turning to address the scrawl on the walls. "Is this a threat? Huh? Who's fucking with me? WHAT DO YOU WANT?!"
Silence.
Amber collapses onto the bed, hands pressed against her face.
"rachel...
" ...mom...."