Elaine awoke the next morning disoriented. She sat up in bed, taking a few moments to get herself together. Her eyes adjusted and for a few moments, she forgot all that had happened. It seemed peaceful. A loud boom stopped the tranquility.
"Ugh! So help me god I'm going to kill it!" Jon yelled.
The word 'killed' made her shoot out of bed. She ran over to the door of her bedroom to find it locked. She played with the handle for a minute then collapsed by the door. She began to cry. Her fist pounded the door once before she let it fall beside her. Her crying turned into sobbing. After a few moments, she couldn't even remember why she began sobbing.
The doorknob turned. She lifted her face up and whiped her eyes, only to find them filling back up with tears. The door pushed open slightly.
"Elaine?" Jon's voice whispered. She moved from the door slightly and collapsed on the floor completely. "Elaine!" he gasped, running over to her.
"Stay away from me!" she screamed, tears racing down her face.
"I'm saving your ass, reember?" he screamed back. "You are so ungrateful!"
"Oh don't even act like you're on some great 'save-the-world' mission. This is all your fault!" she yelled.
"I refuse to go over this with you. But, you know I'm not trying to punish you!" he yelled. "Look, your door is unlocked. You can come out now. Which I don't have to let you do, but I'm that mean."
"Go away!" she yelled. Her face was stained with tears. When she yelled, her voice was rough and tired sounding.
"Fine," he said through gritted teeth. He left her, slamming the door so harshly that Elaine could feel the ground below her shake.
"I hate you!" she screamed. After a moment of stillness she picked herself up off the floor. Elaine lay on her back on the bed that had been provided for her.
She thought about Taylor and how he had been to her. She thought of her best friend, a killer. She thought of Isaac and his brush with death. She thought of Zac and how if would feel to think that you couldn't even count on your own brothers. She thought of Hope and the losses she had suffered. And she thought of Jon.
At first, she thought about his cruelness. Then about the tragic loss of his sister. Then of her hate for him. However, the more she thought of him, the more compassion she had for him.
Thoughts raced through her mind. The accident. The girl getting hit. The murderer driving away. The boy left to suffer.
She felt herself drifting off....
The girl was screaming. Screaming. There was confusion and horrible, horrible sounds. Fear. Lots of it. Pain. More pain that she could bare. No one. No one was around. A familiar face! She was glad to see such a face. Then it left. The pain left. Then she was falling. But from what? Then the pain again. More pain. Horrible, frightening pain. "Help!" she screamed. "Help!" she yelled frantically. The pain.
Elaine awoke breathing heavily.
"Oh god, it was a dream," she said, breathing a sigh of relief. "What was it?"
Then it hit her. She was Leigh, Jon's sister. But why was she in Leigh's place? It didn't make any sense. Was she being told something?
She got off the bed and went into the bathroom. Her hands trembled as she turned the faucet on the shower.
"Okay, Elaine, chill out," she whispered to herself. She managed to get a shower. She spotted a robe and put it on. Feeling a bit more refreshed, she started out of her room. She walked down the hall to the main living room. Jon was laying on the couch, asleep.
Elaine couldn't help but to stare at him. Now was her chance. She could save herself and her friends. All she had to do was kill him. Then it would be over. It all would be over. Her legs stood still though. She couldn't get it through her head to kill him. She just couldn't do it. Something wasn't right. It was almost as if she thought he deserved to live.
Instead, she decided that now was the time to explore and go through Jon's things. She would look for a key. That's what she would do. A key. Then she could be with her friends. Warn them. Maybe she'd find out how to get out of the hotel all together. It was up to her to get her friends out of this mess. It was all up to her.
She turned around and plotted her first move. Jon's room, she decided, would be the best place for her to start. Elaine heard a rustling behind her.
"Please God don't let him be awake," she said to herself.
"Good to see you out of your room," Jon said to her. She turned around to face him. "Nice," he said, looking at her in the robe.
"Yeah, well, just don't get any ideas, okay? I just had been in those clothes for awhile. This isn't an open invite," she told him, getting a nervous feeling in her stomach.
"Relax, I wouldn't if you begged me. But if you want some clothes, I can give you some. Unless, of course, you prefer to walk around in that for the rest of your life."
"Yeah well with you my life might not be much longer," she told her.
"If you keep that attitude, you have no idea how right you just might be," he mumbled. "You aren't intimidated by me. I like that."
"Is that bad or good?" Elaine asked.
"Whatever you want it to be. Whatever you want it to be."
"You know, you aren't as creepy as you try to be," she told him.
"Who ever said I try to be creepy?" Jon asked.
"Oh please, the whole serial killer thing pretty much does the trick," she said.
"So, how about those clothes?" he said, desperately trying to change the subject.
"Sure. This robe is a little too free for me," she agreed.
"Follow me," he told her, getting up off of the couch. She let him pass in front of her and followed him to his room. She stood in the doorway and watched him search under his bed.
"You can come in. I'm not going to tie you to my bed or anything," he told her.
She shrugged. She wanted to avoid his room as much as possible. After last night, she never wanted to step foot in it again. Ever.
"Suit yourself," Jon told her. He pulled out a large suitcase into the floor of his room.
"What is that?" she asked him, dreading an answer.
"A dead body," he joked. His humor made her sick to her stomach. The taste of vomit arose in her throat. "Elaine, calm down. I was kidding."
"Don't call me by my name. Don't treat me like your friend," she told him, backing completely into the hallway.
"Fair enough," he told her. He threw some clothes at her. "See if those fit."
"Where did you get these?" she asked.
"I had some very generous donors," he smiled.
She dropped the clothes. "Oh my god, that is sick. I'm not wearing dead people's clothes!"
"They weren't wearing them when they died, chick," he told her.
"That's not the point. That's just wrong! And don't call me chick either."
"Hey, if you wanna run around like that, be my guest. But do you trust me that much?" he smirked. She picked up the clothes and went into her room. She put on the jeans. They were a bit big but she figured bigger was better then too small. The shirt was a hopeless cause. She put the robe on over her jeans.
"Jon, the shirt doesn't fit. And quite personally, I'm not liking this idea of wearing the clothes of people that you murdered," she told him.
"Alright," he said. He threw her a shirt. She gave him a sarcastic curtsey. Once again she went in her room. The shirt fit pretty well. The length was a bit long. It was a guy's button shirt. But atleast it was comfortable. She walked out of her room. Jon was standing outside of her door and just about gave her a heart attack.
"Well, I'll say one thing. You look better in that shirt than me," he laughed.
"This is yours?" she asked.
He nodded then laughed. "Didn't think we could swap clothes, did you?" He started walking away.
"Why?" she asked.
"Excuse me?" he asked, turning around.
"Why are you being so nice to me. I don't understand," she said.
"How many times are you going to ask me this?" he asked.
"Untill I get a believable answer," she told him.
"Look, just accept what I do for you, okay? I know you hate me. That's obvious. But I also know that you don't want to. There's something special about you. I can't place it, but there is. So I figure, atleast I can protect you. Don't fight it. Let me do stuff for you," he told her.
"You don't even know me!" she told him. Tears were beginning to form in her eyes.
"Maybe its you who just doesn't know me," he told her. "If you'll excuse me. I have some work to attend to."
"No! Jon! Please!" she yelled. He walked down the hall. She was frozen. She had to stop him. She must. She ran after him. He was in the main room.
"Jon!" she called to him. He turned around, knife in hand. "Oh my god," she whispered. Her eyes grew wide with pure fear. "No," she whispered, backing up. "You can't." Her voice grew hoarse.
"Stay out of this. Please. This isn't between you," he told her.
"No! You can't do this! You can't!" she screamed. Her eyes flooded with tears.
"Please stop. You don't understand. Help yourself while I'm gone. I don't know how long I'll be," he told her.
"Murderer!" she yelled at the top of her lungs. Her voice cracked and was taking over my sobbing.
"Please," he said to her, his voice softened. He looked down. She took the chance and tackled him to the ground. She sat on top of him and stared down at him.
"I'm begging you, Jon. I'm begging you. I'll do anything," she told him. Her tears fell onto his face. He started to cry.
"I can't do this to you," he told her. He loosened his grip on the knife and gave it to Elaine. She grasped it tightly.
"Promise me that you won't go out there nad hurt them, Jon," she told him. He cried harder.
"Let me up," he told her. She was hesitant at first but then got off of him. He got up and fled down the hallway. She sat on the floor for a moment. Unsure of what just occured. She walked down the hallway slowly, still gripping the knife. She went into her room and hid the knife in the bathroom. She then left her room and stood outside of Jon's for a minute. Elaine decided to knock on the door.
"Come in," she heard him say in a faint voice. She cracked the door open slightly and peeked her head in. He was sitting on his bed with his back to the door. She stepped into the room. The room had a new atmosphere to it. There was something diffrent about it. Something that enabled to walk into it.
She walked over to his bed and sat beside him.
"Are you okay?" she asked.
"Yeah, I'm fine," he told her. His voice was returning to normal. "There's so much you don't know. So much I want to tell you. But I can't."
"Why can't you?" she asked.
"I can't say. I'm sorry," he apologized. "I know you hate me."
Elaine was quiet. "For some reason, I can't hate you," she said quietly. He looked at her. "I trust you," she whispered. He leaned forward to her and placed his lips on hers softly.