They’d only stopped once so far and that was to get gas
and for Trevor to make a few quick calls to make sure that she had
a new bottle of pills waiting for her at home.
“ Oh, come the fuck on!” he
suddenly snapped, drawing her attention to the fact that he was
slowly steering the car over into the breakdown lane.
Almost too afraid to ask, but knowing that
she couldn’t pretend that something was seriously screwed up with
this honeymoon, she forced herself to ask, “What’s wrong?”
“ Everything ,” he snarled, throwing the
car in park, threw on the hazard lights and before she knew what
was happening, he had her out of the car and walking towards the
next off-ramp.
As they walked along the litter decorated
highway, Trevor started making phone calls. She only half listened
since every other word that came out of his mouth were colorful
curses, some of which she’d never heard before. Apparently the
rental car place had given them a lemon and the game plan was to
find a hotel and stay there until Jason, who’d volunteered to come
get them and bring them home so that they could, and she was
quoting both men on this one, “Put an end to this seriously fucked
up honeymoon.”
Yeah, that made her feel great, she decided
as she stepped around what appeared to be a small pile of used
condoms. She didn’t say anything and he didn’t ask her to as they
kept to the side of the off-ramp and followed it until they came to
an intersection that sat directly in front of what she could only
describe as a flea motel. She didn’t need to ask to know that was
their destination.
When he took her hand into his and led her
across the deserted road she simply went with him, too exhausted
physically and emotional to argue at this point. Twenty minutes
later, they were standing in a room that hadn’t been renovated
since the early eighties. It even had one of those fat little
televisions with bunny ears set up in the corner alongside a VCR
that was flashing the 12:01.
As Trevor once again pulled out his phone and
started making calls, she took in the rest of the room, idly
wondering if he had any quarters on him since that’s what the
television operated on and apparently so did the bed. She couldn’t
even say that was all that shocked when she looked up and saw the
mirror above the bed. When she pulled open the top drawer of the
nightstand and saw the collection of condoms and empty condom
wrappers surrounding a worn copy of the Bible, she decided that the
chair by the door would make an excellent bed for the night.
First thing she needed to do though was to
lower the heat. It had to be ninety degrees in here. She walked
over to the thermostat and turned it down only to discover that the
cover spun freely and there was no way to set it. She also
discovered that she was wrong. It wasn’t ninety degrees in here,
but a crisp eighty-four degrees. Turning around, she walked past
Trevor, who was now pacing the length of the small room while
arguing with Jason about whose honeymoon had been more fucked up,
and attempted to open the window only to discover that it was
painted shut.
Shaking her head, because she really should
have expected it, she walked past Trevor, headed into the bathroom
and closed the door behind her. She focused on doing what needed to
be done and not on the questionable state of the bathroom. After
five minutes of inner turmoil and deep soul searching, she decided
to risk it and take a shower in the rust stained tub.
She closed her eyes and did her best to
ignore the feel of the hard water coating her skin and hair. After
two minutes she decided that she was clean enough and shut off the
water. She grabbed a threadbare towel, telling herself that it was
clean, and did her best to dry off before she reluctantly wrapped
it around herself. She stood there for another moment,
contemplating her choices, put her clothes back on that she’d been
wearing all day and take the chance of contaminating her only
and for Trevor to make a few quick calls to make sure that she had
a new bottle of pills waiting for her at home.
“ Oh, come the fuck on!” he
suddenly snapped, drawing her attention to the fact that he was
slowly steering the car over into the breakdown lane.
Almost too afraid to ask, but knowing that
she couldn’t pretend that something was seriously screwed up with
this honeymoon, she forced herself to ask, “What’s wrong?”
“ Everything ,” he snarled, throwing the
car in park, threw on the hazard lights and before she knew what
was happening, he had her out of the car and walking towards the
next off-ramp.
As they walked along the litter decorated
highway, Trevor started making phone calls. She only half listened
since every other word that came out of his mouth were colorful
curses, some of which she’d never heard before. Apparently the
rental car place had given them a lemon and the game plan was to
find a hotel and stay there until Jason, who’d volunteered to come
get them and bring them home so that they could, and she was
quoting both men on this one, “Put an end to this seriously fucked
up honeymoon.”
Yeah, that made her feel great, she decided
as she stepped around what appeared to be a small pile of used
condoms. She didn’t say anything and he didn’t ask her to as they
kept to the side of the off-ramp and followed it until they came to
an intersection that sat directly in front of what she could only
describe as a flea motel. She didn’t need to ask to know that was
their destination.
When he took her hand into his and led her
across the deserted road she simply went with him, too exhausted
physically and emotional to argue at this point. Twenty minutes
later, they were standing in a room that hadn’t been renovated
since the early eighties. It even had one of those fat little
televisions with bunny ears set up in the corner alongside a VCR
that was flashing the 12:01.
As Trevor once again pulled out his phone and
started making calls, she took in the rest of the room, idly
wondering if he had any quarters on him since that’s what the
television operated on and apparently so did the bed. She couldn’t
even say that was all that shocked when she looked up and saw the
mirror above the bed. When she pulled open the top drawer of the
nightstand and saw the collection of condoms and empty condom
wrappers surrounding a worn copy of the Bible, she decided that the
chair by the door would make an excellent bed for the night.
First thing she needed to do though was to
lower the heat. It had to be ninety degrees in here. She walked
over to the thermostat and turned it down only to discover that the
cover spun freely and there was no way to set it. She also
discovered that she was wrong. It wasn’t ninety degrees in here,
but a crisp eighty-four degrees. Turning around, she walked past
Trevor, who was now pacing the length of the small room while
arguing with Jason about whose honeymoon had been more fucked up,
and attempted to open the window only to discover that it was
painted shut.
Shaking her head, because she really should
have expected it, she walked past Trevor, headed into the bathroom
and closed the door behind her. She focused on doing what needed to
be done and not on the questionable state of the bathroom. After
five minutes of inner turmoil and deep soul searching, she decided
to risk it and take a shower in the rust stained tub.
She closed her eyes and did her best to
ignore the feel of the hard water coating her skin and hair. After
two minutes she decided that she was clean enough and shut off the
water. She grabbed a threadbare towel, telling herself that it was
clean, and did her best to dry off before she reluctantly wrapped
it around herself. She stood there for another moment,
contemplating her choices, put her clothes back on that she’d been
wearing all day and take the chance of contaminating her only
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