I opened the door and the first thing I saw was my fiancée and my sister, his hands on her hips and her lips on hers. My heart sunk and I stood there, slack jawed. When my bag dropped to the floor he pulled away and came to me. I couldn't process what he was saying. I just watched him as he frantically flailed about.
I picked up my bag and turned away. I walked through the static and when I was in the elevator I saw that he had let me go. It came with a strange mix of relief and frustration. I pressed the button and when the doors closed I punched the wall. I crossed my arms and stared down at my feet.
I was cute; a teardrop face with wide cheekbones and a little chin. I had thin eyebrows and big brown eyes with long, thick eyelashes. My full lips were soft. I had long, soft brown that was cut in the front to curve around my face. I was short and petite.
I had a good job; I was a lawyer. My fiancé was unemployed and I supported him while he figured out what he wanted to do. I cooked, cleaned, ran errands, everything while I was dealing with the stress of taking people by the hand and guiding them through their trauma. I deserved to be loved. Respected.
The elevator doors opened and I stepped into the main lobby. I made my way to the bar and sat on the stool. I ordered a cosmopolitan. I drank short sips of the drink while I stared through the glass, my chest aching. I wiped a tear from my face, or, slapped it away. I couldn't help my frustration with myself. Yes, I was mad at John but all my life I'd done so much for people at I thought he appreciated it. I thought I found someone good. I was so tired of being wrong about people.
"You alright?"
My eyes were drawn to the bartender. He was average height and muscular. He had a square face framed by a thick, curly brown mane. He had dark and menacing eyes. He had a wide nose, feminine lips, and bushy eyebrows.
"No."
"What happened?"
"I don't want to distract you from your job, but thank you."
With a smile he gestured around the bar and I took in the state of the place. The news played on the television over the lounge. Only one person sat in the massive room.
"My fiancée kissed my sister," I relented, sipping my drink again and savoring the sweetness.
He hummed his acknowledgement, "He'll regret it."
"No, I know. I hate that I care."
He leaned on the bar. I slouched.
"You can care and also look out for yourself."
"Easier said than done."
"Tell you what," His tone changed and he held a sly smile, "The owner is a buddy of mine. If you're the one paying for the room I'll have them change the locks while he's out."
"I am, and thank you."
"It's no problem."
"I'm Belle," I held out my hand and he shook it once.
"Jackson. Is he in there now?"
"Yeah."
My brows met and my lips pursed in confusion when he dug into his pockets for his keys and held them out to me. He laid them beside my empty glass and again leaned onto the bar.
"I'm room seventy-seven. I'm here all night. The place is clean. You can sleep there tonight."
"Are you sure?"
"Absolutely."
"Aren't you worried I'm a criminal?"
"That'd make two of us," He said with a grin that widened as my eyes did, "It'd be shitty to hide it from you. You can turn it down but the offer's there."
Biting my lip I took the keys with a shy smile, "Thank you."
"Go on. Drink's on me."
I went down the hall and to his room. It was a simple one bedroom with a television, a mini fridge, and a table. I climbed into the bed and turned on my comfort show. I hugged myself as I watched, my tears burning my eyes despite my laughter.
Eventually I heard my phone ring and I saw his name written across the screen. I stared at it, exhausted. Hating myself I answered the call and held the cool plastic to my ear.
"Can we talk?"
"About what? How much I've done for you? How much I trusted you? How much I loved you? Or are you able to give me the last five years of my life back?"
"I'm an idiot-"
"-I know-"
"-I'm sorry. I think I was bored with-"
I hung up and turned my phone off. I felt like I was living in a bad dream. Just as I had that thought the television switched to a government recording.
"Citizens, lock your doors and stay inside," As he spoke I looked out the window where a bloody figure leapt onto someone. I jumped from the bed and shut the curtains, "We've received word that a virus has been released onto the public. Stay in your homes and await word from us. Do not panic."
The door opened and I raced into the bathroom and locked the door.
"It's me," Jackson called to me.
I stepped out of the bathroom, "You saw the news?"
"Yea. We have enough food in here for a few days. You'll be safe."
Tentatively I turned my phone back on. I saw countless text messages from almost everyone I knew. I pressed the silent mode button and sat down to answer them all.
"I can give you privacy while you call your family," I offered.
Jackson folded his arms behind his head to get comfortable atop his sheets, "Don't have a family."
"Sorry."
He shrugged.
A text came through from John, "Belle, come home."
And my sister; "I'm sorry. Come home."
I added them to a group and texted them back, "I'm safe. I need space. Stay in your room."
I sat onto the couch beside the table. I crossed my legs and stared at the floor as the silence sank in, tunneling through my flesh to eat what was inside. Interrupting my simmering in fear was another call.
"Belle?" My sister's hesitant voice came through.
I rolled my eyes and shut myself in the bathroom, "What?"
"I'm really sorry. I've been going through a lot. I need you. I'm really scared."
"Cope."
I hung up and stuffed my phone in my pocket. I walked back into the main room and slumped onto the couch with my head in my hands. I looked at Jackson. A devilish side smile colored his face.
"What?"
"You have more of a spine than you lead on."
"I'm a lawyer. Sometimes it helps to pretend I'm at work."
"What made you want to be a lawyer?"
"My mom. She was the strong, no-nonsense type. She was the toughest person I knew. I wanted to be just like her."
"What happened to her?"
"Cancer. I was eighteen. I took my sister in."
His face softened. He turned to me and I braced myself for the sad puppy look people usually gave me but I didn't see that. I saw understanding.
"My parents dying was why I turned to crime. I had to support my brother."
"Where is he?"
"That's a long, sad story you don't need to deal with now."
As if to punctuate his statement screams erupted from the main lobby of the hotel. Jackson stood and grabbed his gun. He moved to take my hand as fists pounded against the bedroom door. It shook with every blow until it began to crack. He kicked the window and pulled me through, helping me avoid the broken glass. We ran to the back of the hotel and into the underground parking lot.
I saw my fiancé and sister fighting two walking corpses. After driving her knife through his eye she turned to me. Her face was blood red.
"Get in the van," Jackson gave me the keys and pointed to his vehicle.
I climbed inside while he guarded me. John and Angela rushed to the window. He let Angela speak.
"Belle?"
"Ask Jackson."
"Just your sister."
"We can't let John die, you won't be able to live with yourself, Belle!"
"Everyone get in!" Jackson shouted.
As they piled into the van my eyes widened as a hoard came running toward us. I sped out of the driveway and shot the van down the street. I could feel my heart pounding as I dodged cars and bodies that I couldn't recognize as alive or dead.