Chapter Five

Mallory

The blaring sound of my alarm clock pulls me from slumber and the urge to call in sick to work is hard to fight. I may have fallen asleep the second my head hit the pillow last night, but it was not a restful sleep. I was tossing and turning the entire time, Ghostface and his mountainous body were invading my brain, preventing me from hitting REM sleep. I drag myself from my cozy paradise to start my usual morning routine. Shower, get dressed, apply mascara, make a to-go cup of coffee, and fly out the door with seconds to spare.

The drive to the Silverberry Hotel takes almost an hour and my cleaning shift starts at 6 am. I ’ m hoping I have just enough time to get there and clock in before I end up late. I crank up the speakers while speeding down the back roads, my mind reeling after last night. I cannot for the life of me figure out who the man watching me could be. I didn ’ t really have any friends, my parents kept me cut off and isolated from everyone I met when I went to school. There is Rita Clarke, my boss, and Victoria. She ’ s a waitress at the restaurant with me most nights and she is my only friend. We ’ ve even hung out a few times before and it's been fun, but I find myself longing for home sooner than I expect. She lives in the next town over and rents an apartment with another lady, Jackie, who I find to be much too loud for my liking. But, she ’ s nice and we ’ ve gotten along the two times I ’ ve been in the same room as her.

I haven ’ t had any male interactions in about three months, not since my parents disappeared, and they were not pleasant exchanges to say the least. Aside from brief interactions at work, every man I came into contact with was affiliated with Dennis and Barbra. Shortly after I tried to leave, my lovely parents got into the habit of promising my "services" to their friends in exchange for drugs or money. They threatened to sell my virginity to the highest bidder too, but luckily that never happened. I felt it was just another way for them to punish me. They ’ d instil so much fear in me that I ’ d never try to leave again. Stripping me of my hard earned money, dignity, and self respect along the way. I can ’ t see one of those men being my late night visitor since they had no morals or boundaries. The flashbacks to the hell that was my previous life are terrible to endure, but they seem to hurt less and less each time. That ’ s good, right? Am I healing or just becoming numb to it?

I pull into an empty parking stall in the " Employees only " area and am surprised to see that I have about ten minutes to spare. Oops, guess I was a little heavy footed this morning. I open my favourite online shopping app on my phone and look for a security camera I can install myself. There's a few with an app that I can link up to my phone and monitor 24/7 from my device. I grab a three camera setup for inside and three for outside from the product with the best reviews. Delivery should be in four days; well that ’ s okay, I suppose. I already know where I'll be installing the cameras. I ’ d like to see if pervy stalker man has the balls to show his face again now that I ’ m going to be prepared. With a little pep in my step now that I ’ ve taken some initiative, I lock up my car and head into work.

“ Morning, Mallie!” Rita calls from behind the hotel's welcome desk. She’s the only one allowed to call me that, to everyone else I’m Mal or Mallory. " There's going to be quite a mess up on the third floor after check out. I heard from the overnight staff that the stag party got a little rowdy last night after we left.” Great. I don ’ t think I could roll my eyes any harder than I am right now. I ’ ve been here all of five minutes and there ’ s already a headache brewing.

While I can sympathize with those that hate Mondays, they ’ ve clearly never worked in the cleaning service industry. Our job is to clean up all the filth in a hotel room after a customer has refused services during a long weekend stay. I ’ ve seen some wild and disgusting things. Like, how do you get cum all over a lamp shade? I ’ ll never solve the conundrum of that one. One time, the freshly graduated kids of that school year held their prom here. They thought it would be funny to mold the pillows and blankets into the shape of a body and tie it up. Each group of teens left a ‘ body ’ in their room at check out. I thought it was hilarious, but another staff member almost went into cardiac arrest. She ended up forcing Rita to call all the parents we had on file. I don't understand why, it was just a harmless, albeit morbid, prank. Estelle has no sense of humour though, so I shouldn ’ t have been the least bit surprised by her reaction to the whole situation.

“ Sounds like a lovely day ahead. I ’ ll go prep the cart and sanitizing equipment,” I groan. Rita nods and I head off to the lower levels to start my day.

For the next eight hours straight I clean, only stopping long enough to guzzle a coffee and scarf down a blueberry muffin. The overnight staff wasn ’ t wrong, that stag party wreaked havoc. They rented out three rooms and I spent my whole day working on them. There was beer spilled everywhere, a used condom was thrown on the arm of a chair, oozing old ejaculant out of the opening and onto the seat. I had to pull out the upholstery and carpet cleaning machine for these rooms. Men are so fucking disgusting, both mentally and physically. Imagine being engaged to the person you say you love, and then going out to fuck yourself stupid between the legs of anyone who looks at you. Granted, I have no proof, but from the amount of condoms that actually made it into the garbage bin, I surmise there was a full on orgy in this room.

I was the party's server down in the bar before I left for the night. I overheard them wanting to “ get some strange" before the groom-to-be gets locked down for life. His reply of “ marriage won ’ t stop me”, made me nauseous the rest of my shift. I often wondered if I was missing out on a happily ever after

because of the life I was forced to lead. However, it seems men are disappointing no matter who you are or where you're from. The stag party wasn ’ t a local group of men, so I can only assume they came to a place where no one knows them to let their inhibitions run wild.

My mind wanders as I dust, scrub, sanitize, and strip stained and crusty bed linens. It ’ s monotonous and my window creeper keeps poking his way into my thoughts. What does he do for work? What does he look like under the mask? Under those clothes, is he fit? Loaded with muscles so that he can manhandle me with ease? What kind of man is he deep down? What ’ s his penis look like? Should I care? Probably not, but it looked huge and I ’ ve never seen one that big. Even from far away I could tell it was bigger than any I ’ ve had the displeasure of seeing up close. What the fuck is wrong with me? I do not want to see my stalker's trouser snake. Right?

I have about an hour before my shift at the restaurant starts and I heavily debate taking a nap in an unoccupied room which is probably frowned upon. Instead, I make my way out to my car to enjoy the silence before the dinner rush starts. I work from 6 am to 2 pm as a chambermaid five days a week, but my schedule at the restaurant fluctuates. Sometimes I get no downtime and work straight from 2 pm to 10 pm. There's been a few weekend nights when the bar is open until 2 am and I just opt to sleep in my car if I work in the morning. Thankfully, Rita doesn ’ t do that to me very often, usually only if someone calls out of work. I ’ ve never had a full day off before, but that ’ s my fault. I told Rita to schedule me like that so I was never home with my parents for very long.

Now that things have changed, I've been meaning to ask her to change it. I ’ m safe now and would like to experience a full day to myself. What would it be like to be able to do anything I want? Would Rita be okay with the change? I don't want to upset my boss.

Opening the door to the black Honda Civic that used to belong to my mother, I find myself wishing I had a different vehicle. It ’ s a constant reminder of my past and the many times I was slapped into shocked silence from speaking my mind when I was young. Eventually, Mallory, one thing at a time. Getting into the seat and reclining it as far as it will go, I set an alarm on my phone for forty-five minutes and try to drift off to sleep.