Five days in to her stay at the Hotel Cortez, and Ashlynn was starting to adapt to a routine. Wake up, take pill, pace hallway, vomit, take a shower, spend time with Liz at the bar. The routine was hardly subject to any change, though James made occasional appearances, never staying long enough for her to get any information out of him, nor did either of them bring up the kiss, though she knew it lingered in both of their minds.

She had somewhat become used to the taste of wine after Liz had encouraged her to try it. It wasn't nearly as bad as the vodka she had tried when Liz offered it. Scotch had an interesting taste, and after experiencing a panic attack at the realization she had not spoken to Cierra in two days, she had drank an entire glass, her mind going foggy in a way not unsimilar to her pills. Quickly she realized that the smell scotch seemed to linger on her shirts when James held her by the arms, so close yet so far, their chests pressed together but their lips never meeting.

She saw Cierra in passing sometimes, though Cierra never even looked at her, much less speak. Ashlynn almost didn't mind it. She was beginning to understand what Cierra had meant. It was good for her to be alone, it was forcing her to talk to people, to go about her day without a crutch.

But just because she understood didn't mean she had to like it.

At night, the hotel still terrified her. The darkness seemed to surround her, clutching her, sinking its claws into her and never letting go. And a strange part of her, hidden deep down inside, enjoyed that darkness. Though it scared her to no extent, there was a certain allure to it. The allure of the jazz music that played from room 64 in the night.

She leaned against the mirror, brushing hair out of her eyes. She tapped her foot against the carpet, letting out a soft breath. She needed something to do. Something to take her mind away from the thought of spending the night in the room. A knock sounded at the door, and she quickly moved to open it.

A part of her almost expected Cierra, though the sight of James was almost a surprise as well. "Oh," she said. "Hi."

"Going somewhere?" he asked, looking her over.

"I was thinking of it."

"Wherever would you go, dear girl?"

"I don't know."

He took a step closer, closing the door behind him. "What do you want?" she asked, but he only shook his head, taking a few more steps toward her, taking her by the arm.

She closed her eyes as he leaned in to kiss her, his hands wandering to her waist. Confusion overwhelmed her, but still she kissed him back, arms wrapping around his neck. Breaking apart for a brief moment, she managed to ask, "James?"

But he only smiled, kissing her again, hungrily this time. She pulled away, her eyebrows knitting together anxiously. He gripped her tightly. "What?" he asked.

"What are you doing?" she mumbled, taking a step back.

He kept his hands on her waist, even as she moved away from him. "What does it seem like I'm doing, dear girl?"

She shook her head, her body seeming to tense entirely in his grip. He stepped closer, taking her hand in his own, thumb smoothing along her knuckles. "What's the matter?"

"Nothing."

"I know when you're lying. Have we not established this, dear girl?" he smiled as he spoke, but there was a dangerous tone to his voice.

"Cierra hasn't talked to me."

"You're still so worried about her? She can take care of herself, dear girl. As can you."

"She's my friend."

His voice lowered as he replied. "She abandoned you."

"She didn't mean to."

"She thought about it. She planned it. She knew what she was doing, and she knew it would hurt you. She abandoned you."

Ashlynn bit her lip, and James squeezed her a bit too tightly. "Tell me," he said. "How much pain did it cause you to be abandoned by the only person you've ever cared for?"

She swallowed anxiously. "A lot," she said, her voice barely audible.

"Don't you want to make her feel what you felt?"

"What?"

"Cause her the same pain. Make her suffer the way she made you."

"I don't know what you mean."

He moved closer, whispering in her ear. "I mean kill her, dear girl."

Ashlynn flinched away from him, pulling free of his grip as if she'd been burned. "What?" she demanded, but James seemed unfazed.

"Kill her," he said. "Make her suffer. Make her bleed."

"You're insane."

"I'm the sanest person you'll ever meet."

"I can't kill her."

"Whyever not?" he asked, and he stepped ever closer. "It'd be easy. Slit her throat. Drain her dry and be done with it. She deserves nothing less, dear girl."

Ashlynn shook her head, frozen as he stepped closer, closer, taking her arms and pulling her close. His voice was low, barely a whisper. "It will feel wonderful, dear girl. I promise you that."

She didn't answer, and his hands moved down her arms, squeezing her shoulders before they continued downward, gripping her hips tightly. As he pulled her closer, he whispered in her ear, his breath making the hairs on the back of her neck rise. "Just do it."

She shivered as his lips moved to her neck. "How?" she whispered, and she felt him chuckle against her skin.

"However you like, my dear. No matter what, I will guide you the entire way."