Chapter 4: Motel

**TRIGGER WARNING: Mentions of self injury. If you or someone you know is struggling please contact: 988

Your safety matters more than finishing this chapter.
**

JASPER:
Mavis skips ahead, looking far too satisfied. I shove the stolen clothes under my black sweatshirt, but the damp fabric only makes the cold sink deeper into my bones.
Traffic roars against the wet asphalt, vibrating through my skull and giving me a headache I don’t need right now.
“I hope you know where we’re going,” I mutter, barely loud enough to hear over the rain.
“Good, because I do.”
I know she’s lying.
Her pointer finger keeps rubbing against her thumb—the twitch she gets when she’s spiraling.
I don’t press it.
I don’t have the energy to argue with Mavis tonight.
But she does make it obvious.
Neon light burns into my eyes, reflecting off the starless sky. Axel stays close to Mavis and me, still buying into whatever act she’s putting on, while Mika paces the edges of the sidewalk, eyes darting around like something’s gonna jump out and we’re actually in any position to defend ourselves.
Eventually, Mika stops behind me and points toward a motel that looks like a slightly bigger version of the shed we just abandoned.
“What? No. Keep going,” Mavis snaps immediately, already starting to walk again.
“Mavis, it’s midnight,” Mika says flatly, studying her face like he’s still hoping to find reason there when there is none.
Which he won’t.
“Just because you’re willing to walk all night in the rain doesn’t mean I am,” I bite out.
“Maybe we can take a break?” Axel says quietly.
“We don’t need a break if we’re five minutes away,” she insists.
Her finger is still rubbing against her thumb.
“You said that twenty minutes ago.”
I start to argue, then stop caring halfway through it.
Instead, I turn toward the motel.
A small bell chimes when I shove the door open.
“No, Jasper, we aren’t done—”
Mavis cuts herself off the second she sees the clerk.

The attitude disappears instantly to avoid making a scene. Mika walks in behind us with that same dead-eyed composure, though his jaw is clenched tight enough to crack.
I pull the cash from under my sweatshirt and press it into his chest without saying anything.
Mavis drifts toward the corner, looking irritated and exhausted at the same time, while Axel stares at the purple neon sign glowing across the street.
I sink onto the lobby bench.
The heat feels abrasive, making the fabric of my sweatshirt stick to the achy patches on my arm.
I pull my sleeves down more, folding my arms tightly and tucking my chin into my collar, trying to make myself smaller.
Mika handles the front desk in clipped one-word answers, barely looking at the clerk.
When he finally gets the key, he flicks a glance toward Mavis.
Then we finally move.
The staircase outside is hidden behind overgrown trees, the metal slick with rainwater. We climb up to room 203.
The walls are covered in peeling yellow paint that curls at the edges like dead skin, and the whole room smells like cleaning supplies and disappointment.
I dump the clothes onto the bed.
Axel immediately starts wandering around the room, stuffing random objects into his pockets like they’re souvenirs instead of garbage.

Mika stays near the corner, one hand shaking slightly as rainwater drips from his sleeve onto the carpet. He tries to hide it by putting it behind his back.
I start digging through the pile for something long-sleeved.
Mavis suddenly holds up a huge bra with a grin stretched across her face.
“Jasper, you should try this on.”
I don’t react.
I keep looking through the clothes like she never spoke.
After a second, the joke drops off her face.
“Dude, just take the white T-shirt,” she says.
“It’s fine,” I answer too quickly.
“It’s freezing, Jasper,” Mika says from across the room. “Change.”
“I said it’s fine.”
Silence crashes down after that. Heavy, really awkward.
Axel stands slowly, his grey eyes searching my face.
“You can take mine if you want,” he says, gesturing toward a blue long-sleeved shirt lying on the bed.
Something twists in my chest—shame, irritation, maybe both.
I don’t take it.
I just turn away and stare blankly at the stained motel wall until the room finally goes quiet.

Mika walks into the bathroom.
His clothes pulled tightly to his chest. The silence still lingers in the room with the sound of Axel on the ground still looking for trinkets. Honestly, I would rather still hear the cars zipping across the pavement with a migraine than sit here. Mavis lays next to me, bouncing her her hand. I look at the white T-shirt on the bed. Mad at it for making me look stupid. I lean back onto the bed, causing it to creak.

Mavis lays on the bed next to me, opening her mouth hesitantly.

“You know,” she says to the ceiling, “if I end up breathing in too much of the cleaning chemicals, I’m haunting you specifically.”

I don’t look away from the ceiling either.
“Why.”

“Because you’d be the easiest to annoy.”

“You’re just good at being annoying.”

“Exactly. Built-in chemistry.”

I scoff.

Mavis points toward me without sitting up. “Also, if you freeze to death tonight, I’m stealing your headphones.”

“They’re broken.”

“Then I’ll haunt you for false advertising too.”

She props herself up on her elbows and looks at me. The dyed greenish blue ends of her hair tangled around her shoulders.

I notice the glass cuts on her arms and shoulders.

From the floor, Axel lets out a quiet laugh.
“Do I get haunted too?” he asks.

Mavis points at him immediately. “You get double haunted. You’re annoying in a different way.”

Axel nods like that makes sense and goes back to sorting through his junk.
I don’t say anything.

The room gets a little quieter after that.

MIKA:
The room smells like mildew and bleach. I watch Jasper for a moment, searching his face for something—an explanation, a reaction, anything.
Eventually, I give up and push myself off the wall.
I move toward the bed, digging through the pile carefully and making sure not to take the white T-shirt in case Jasper changes his mind, though I doubt he will. I end up grabbing a loose black sleeveless shirt and a pair of jeans.
There’s a bathroom behind the small kitchen counter Mavis is sitting on. She’s too busy talking to Jasper about breathing in chemicals or something to notice me pass by.

I shut the bathroom door behind me. It’s disorganized, with cracks split through the mirror above the sink, and the lock’s broken on the door. I look at it for a moment, thinking it’s fixable if I give it a moment, but my hands are too numb to do anything.
I set the clothes down beside it.
I just stand there for a second, staring at the floor.
I start carefully listing everything that went wrong tonight: Mavis jumped through a window today, Axel clogged a toilet so we could rob a laundromat, Jasper’s shutting down again, Creeds mad we didn’t find anything on Marcys murder, and I stabbed someone.
I stabbed someone. I actually stabbed someone.

The light above me flickers faintly. Somewhere outside the bathroom, the old ventilation fan hums through the walls.
I stop moving.
My jaw tightens.
My hands grip the fabric of my wet shirt harder.
I search through my head, going through everything we have.
Money,
Clothes,
Motel.
So we’re fine.

Yeah, we actually have something.

I force myself to straighten my back. Trying to hold my ground even if no one’s here to see, the bathroom air feels stale and thick, tasting like dust and chemicals.
I’m not here to worry.
I’m here to be functional.

I pull the shirt over my head, but every movement feels jerky and wrong.

Then I think about the knife.
The resistance, the look on his face.

My jaw is so tight I think it’ll break.

Stop thinking about it, stop.

I scrub my skin until it feels raw, trying to wash away the feeling of blood and rainwater.
Then I stare at the bathroom door for a long moment.

Everything is fine.
It’s fine because we actually aren’t dead.
And that’s really good.

I laugh under my breath.
Then reach for the handle, my hand still shaking slightly,
I hunch my shoulders back.

Just keep moving forward.