The Hotel Room

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Thrillers  |  House: Booksie Classic
Annie suspects her husband is hiding something from her. After following him to a hotel her suspicions become reality.

Submitted: March 08, 2015

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Submitted: March 08, 2015

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The Hotel Room

By: Simran Bath

 

She heard the usual brgch as her engine came to a halt. She'd been following him for almost an hour now, she thought, watching her husband enter the hotel. He wasn't alone. There was a woman with him.

Slamming her car door she crept across the street. It was sad, her lack of emotion. She thought she'd be angry, furious even, but nothing. Not even disappointment. Perhaps she'd already come to terms with it, the late nights, how he barely spoke. She'd known all along. Yet still, she didn't understand what exactly she was feeling.

Relief. She was relieved. That was it, she thought, as she climbed the stairs. Reception said her husband was in room 313. She loved her husband, but their marriage had been breaking apart. With this, maybe she could be done with it, done with the grief. She would be able to move on. Ever since Harriet--atleast that's what they would have named her, she stopped, holding back tears. Since then, since the miscarriage, their relationship hadn't been the same. It was okay though. They would be fine. But they could only be fine apart.

She was at the door now. "313," she read. She knocked. And then knocked again. There was shuffling in the room. "Just a minute," answered a woman. Then, the girl was at the door. "Hi, uh who are you?" the woman answered. "I'm Annie," she answered back. "The wife of the man you're sleeping with." The woman stepped back, frightened. "Lady, i'm sorry, I just get my money and move on, I don't wanna be apart of no drama." Money? Annie thought. She was a prostitute. He had been cheating on her with a whore. 

Annie, brushed past the woman and into the bedroom. "James!" She yelled. The prostitute grabbed her shoulder,"He's in the shower," she said. "Listen lady, he doesn't even have sex with me." Annie wanted to knock down that shower door and pull him out by the part that'd hurt most, but something caught her eye. "Wait, you said your name was Annie right?" Asked the prostitute. Annie wasn't listening however. She was staring in the corner of the room. There, sat a large circular piece of plastic, looking like some form of prosthetic. "He makes me put it on," said the hooker. "He asks me to let him call me Annie, and he pretends that's our soon to be baby Harriet." 

"You don't have sex?" Annie asked. She was shaking. "Nope," said the hooker. "He just makes me put that on, then he holds me in bed, and talks about how great it's going to be when we have our daughter." Annie deflated on to the floor. Dear god, she thought. Tears welled up and streamed down her face. Her husband would be out of the shower soon, she thought, recollecting herself. She looked up at the fake Annie, pulling out a few hundred dollar bills. "Take this," she said. "I was never here. Don't you dare tell him I was here, he cannot know." The girl took the money. "Are you sure?" But Annie was already out the door.

She ran down the hall, down the stairs, the lobby, and back into her car. She sat there, head on the wheel, sobbing. Her husband was broken. She wiped the tears, and looked at her reflection in the rear view mirror. But she was broken as well. She started the car. Some secrets are necessary. She would let her husband have this one.


© Copyright 2020 Sbath. All rights reserved.

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