"Out where the stones stand up like thrones beside the ocean

Out where the waves make a grave of the sea

The lovers struggled in the middle of the tempest

And water angrily crawled up onto the beach."

- Fall Down, Never Get Back Up Again, La Dispute

()()()

Halfway through the night, sounds of fervent whispers and hushed voices awoke me.

One was James. The other I didn't know.

The clock on the bedside table read 2:45 am, and I knew I'd have to be up in four hours to start cleaning, so I burrowed my head deeper into the pillow and tried to fall back asleep.

But then I remembered where I was - what had happened in the other room came rushing back to me and I laid there, stunned, with my face half-buried in the sheets.

"You're only going to hurt her, James." Said the other voice, a woman's voice.

It was silky and, had it not been for her harsh, biting words, she would've reminded me of an angel. At the end of all her sentences, no matter how sweet, there was cruelty. I could not see her, but I was sure she was beautiful in the same kind of way.

"I wouldn't dream of it, my dear," James replied, and I could tell from the easiness in his voice that he'd been drinking, that he was drinking. "Stella's different - different than you, different than all the others."

"So there have been others, James?" The woman said, her voice slick and angry. "While you've been condemning me for Donovan, all this time you've been sleeping around too?"

"Elizabeth," He huffed. "I'm a century-old ghost, there's not many opportunities for me to experience...carnal pleasures. When they come around, however, I know better than to say no. You have not come to my bed since Bartholomew."

"You've wanted me for a hundred years, James." The woman sighed. "Now, because of this new maid, you deny me?"

"You have spent all this time running around with boys, men who I didn't approve of nor wish to allow in my hotel. Don't you think it's my turn, Elizabeth?" He said, straining not to raise his voice.

From the bed, I curled deeper into a ball, slamming my eyes shut. James wanted me, sure, but only as a pawn, a plaything. After everything I confessed, after what he'd done for me, and he'd be willing to trade me in for this Elizabeth the second she was ready for him.

Thinking about it was doing me no good, however, and eventually I would succumb to tears and entirely blow my cover. Instead, I tried to focus on sleeping.

"James," Elizabeth said, lower and sweeter than before. "She's awake."

"What?" James said, and I could hear him turn to look at the bed. Slowly, he advanced towards me. "Stella, my dear, it's not polite to eavesdrop."

He reached the bedside, sticking his hands under the covers and feeling around for my own. He linked our fingers together, pulling me out from the duvet and onto the edge of his bed. I was teetering off the side now, half prepared to fall into him. I think he liked it that way, having that position of power over me.

His eyes were dark, the same kind of insanity that had killed those boys filled them now. They flickered across my face, searching for something, and I'm sure they found the same dried tears and runny nose that I was imagining.

I felt used, and now James knew it.

He seemed at a loss for words, his mouth opening, as if to speak, and then shutting again. His lips twitched.

Elizabeth, just as beautiful and angelic as I had first imagined her, came to stand behind him.

"Don't fret, Stella," She said, her words filled with jealousy. "He has chosen you. You look spectacular in that gown, by the way. I was wondering why Ms. Evers was going through my closet."

Then she left, her beautiful, long dress flowing out the door to the hallway. James glanced once at the place where she had stood, and in that moment I thought I felt my heart break.

"James," I said slowly, anxiously. "I want to go back to my room."

I did. I wanted to go back to where there were no strange, beautiful women sneaking in at two in the morning, where James was stuck on the other side of the wall and where, when I was finished with it all, I could deadbolt the door and call it a night.

When I was as tired as I was now, it was easy for me to overlook what had happened there, with the boys. I was willing to risk the memories for a good night's sleep.

"Stella, please," He said, cupping my face with his hands. "You can't go back there. You need to stay with me."

"Why should I?" I asked, pushing myself up and sitting farther back on the bed. "I don't know what your relationship with her is, but I'll never - ever - be able to live up to that, nor would I ever want to."

"Stella - "

"I need to go to bed, James. I have to be up in an hour to clean."

"Don't fret, I'll have Ms. Evers take over your morning duties so you can sleep in."

"I don't want you to make exceptions for me, James." I shook my head, getting off the bed. "Look, I'm going back to my room. In the morning, I'll get up to clean - even wear that damned maid's outfit for you - because that's what the hotel is paying me to do. It's a job, James."

I started to walk towards the door when he rushed towards me, grabbing my bicep tightly.

"Stella, I understand your anger." He said, although his own frustration seemed to be getting the best of him. "But you cannot go back to that room."

I yanked my arm free, red bruises already beginning to form, and huffed, leaving his room.

He hurried after me, calling my name, but I slammed the door in his face. I slipped the deadbolt into place and listened to him bang on the door - I let him wake up the entire fucking hallway, what did I care?

And then I turned around, looking at the remnants of my room.

There were no bloodstains, no bodies - nothing but the smell of bleach and cleaner.

Then, from the bathroom, there was a noise.

"Look who's back, eh?"

The boys rounded the corner, all five of them somehow restored to their original condition - no holes or gashes, no beaten-in, bloody heads. Their eyes were still evil, though, and their words still mean, and they were advancing towards me at a rapid rate while I stood, frozen with fear.

One of them grabbed my arm, twisting it behind my back and pinning me against the bedroom door. He pushed himself up against me, his rotting breath in my ear, and when he touched me I could see James tackling him, hitting the pipe against his skull.

God, I could feel it too.

My free hand pressed against my head, I let out a cry.

"Goddammit, Stella!" James called from the other side, continuing to beat against the door.

Still proud, I would not call for his assistance.

"You've got no one looking out for you this time," The boy sneered, stepping away and letting another one of his friends have a turn.

This man was not as rough as the first, but was none the less volatile. Instead of using his arms to restrain me, he pressed himself against me and stuck a long, wet kiss on my lips. I screamed into his mouth, kicking with my legs, and while the other boys hooted and cheered, I used my free hand to undo the deadbolt, to unlock the door.

When he pried his lips off mine I was no longer so proud, and I yelled out for James.