Author's Note: I don't own anything from the movie "From Dusk Til Dawn"
So it's been a while but I really wanted to be careful with this chapter since it's the first time that the kid speaks and I thought that that was pretty pivotal. Since I set the story PreFDTD I modified Seth's 'hostage' speech a bit b/c I figured he'd be less polished since he's a bit younger than in the movie. Also, I hate how so many female characters are all bitchy and unrealistically tough- I am going for realism with the kid's reactions, but that doesn't mean she's not strong or is going to be a hollow character. I hope you enjoy and please review.
Three hours later the car rolled to halt in a gravel parking lot of a small motel.
"Charming." Ritchie quipped smartly.
Seth could tell it was going to be a top of the line hell hole just by the façade of the rooms. The walls which were once whitewashed were now all yellowing with age and no one seemed to care too much to do anything about it. The most of the doors were naked pine, never been painted. Windows were busted; curtains hang askew in the rooms that had them at all. A door flapped open and closed in the steamy pre-storm wind. It was gonna be a hell hole alright, but that's what Seth intended on, luxury was second to obscurity.
"Come on." Seth said shifting into park and climbing out of the car.
"Do you think its ok to leave the kid alone?" Ritchie asked peering into the back window.
Seth thought for a moment and then opened the back door. Only a black outline of the girl could be discerned, still and silent, but Seth could feel her awareness like electricity in the black, it snapped and popped fervently. On the dark floor she was staring back at him; waiting. He closed the door.
"So?" Ritchie asked.
"I'll deal with the room you get the shit out of the trunk, and have a smoke. I'll be back in a second." Seth replied already making his way across the parking lot. The main office tinged in yellow light and hazy with smoke.
"Hello." Seth greeted the old man at the counter with a curt but polite nod. "I need a room for two for one night."
"That'll be twenty-four dollars. Check out time is noon tomorrow. There's ice in the machine by the pool, mind you the pool is dry, so it's only good for known' where the ice machine is. If you'll be needing anything else you best ask now because there won't be no one round here after twelve, that's when I get off. Will that be all?" the leather skinned man asked, offering the key to Room six to Seth.
"Actually, I would like to be in one of the farther rooms if it's not too much trouble?" Seth asked, oozing a manner of steep courtesy.
The hotel manager stared at Seth for a moment. Seth looked back; his eyes focused on the Virginia Slim advertisement peeking out behind the manager's right ear.
"I don't think that it's such a hot ideal Mister." The man began slowly.
Seth's hand rested on the handle of his gun just peeking over the top of his black pants.
"Well, I'm sorry to hear that sir." Seth replied watching the man's tough face twitch.
"You're gonna be awful far from that ice machine." The manager said replacing Key six and picking up Key fifteen.
"I can live without." Seth replied taking the Key from the manager.
He stalked out of the office and crossed the parking lot toward the parked car. Ritchie was leaning on the bumper smoking earnestly. He flicked the cigarette onto the ground as he noticed Seth approaching.
"How'd you make out?" Ritchie asked.
"Only the best for you." Seth said tossing the keys to his brother.
"Twelve? Hmm." Ritchie said eyeing the door they were parked in front of, thirteen. "Well, how very conven-i-ent."
"Go open it up, will you. I'm gonna get the kid out." Seth said.
"You won't need any help with that?" Ritchie asked expectantly, pushing his glasses further up the bridge of his nose.
"The door, Ritchie." Seth commanded.
Ritchie put his hands up in a defensive gesture and walked over to room twelve.
Seth opened the back door and ducked his head in. His fingers felt about like a blind man's over brail, till the tips brushed blood stiffened skin.
She murmured a barely audible protested and the warmth momentarily left his hand as she strained to distance herself.
The car ride had given her too much time to ruminate on the situation. She had imagined a million horrors and now when reality swept lightly against her cheek she realized how imagining them hadn't prepared her in the least. Seth clamped her mouth shut with one hand and scooped his other underneath her struggling frame. Her legs thrashed weakly like a lazy swimmer. Seth carried her through the open door and dropped her down on the off-white bedspread. Ritchie slammed the door shut and used the deadbolt chain to lock it. Relinquishing his grip on her mouth she heaved in a lungful of air. Seth grabbed a wooden chair and sat opposite to the bed. Ritchie hovered over by the windows searching the chill blackness just inches outside of the thin glass for any sings of life.
"What's you're name kid?" Seth asked.
She was silent, staring hard at her bloody, cracked fingertips.
Seth leaned back and sighed openly in annoyance.
"Look. I have a gun." Seth pulled a shiny black pistol from his pants and placed the muzzle on the kid's knee. The crisp click of the trigger spoke a language of fear and damnation uniquely its own.
"I want to go. I can't be here. I want to- I have to get-" A rush of words spilled from her marred face; ill rehearsed lines from a soon to be edited script.
"No." Seth cut in, now directing his gun at her face. "No, this is not the time for what you want. This is the time for me to get what I want. And I want you're name."
"Please, don't-" She started.
"I don't think we understand one another. I ask questions, you give answers." Seth said slowly and patiently so that every word fulfilled its complete capacity to inspire terror. "It's not a very complicated set up. You want to live through this whole thing; I suggest you get on board. Now, what's your name?"
She looked up from her fingertips and said with stoic, though fragile, steadiness, "Hawthorne Hart."
"What the hell kind of name is that?" Ritchie asked leaning against the window the sight of his gun teasingly played over her chest.
"It's a family name. What the hell kind of name is 'Ritchie' anyway" She retorted. Her words and the bite behind them came in sudden surge like a shaken bottle of pop that had finally been opened. Ritchie blinked, shocked by the kid's sudden bravado. After a split second he snapped from his paralysis and moved to from the window toward the motionless frightened kid. Without removing his eyes from the kid Seth stuck out a firmly intentioned arm halting Ritchie's progress.
Seth had almost smiled at the kid's grit, but stopped himself. This wasn't funny. Seth had noted the dangerous flame that had momentarily flickered from within the depths of her eyes.
"You got a middle name?" Seth asked.
"Odette." She said.
"Well, there aren't too many Hawthorne's around here so you're Odette. Clear?" He asked not waiting for a response. "This is how this whole thing is going to work. You do not speak unless spoken to. You do not ask questions. You do what we tell you when we tell you. You run and we kill you. Are we clear?" He asked cocking his head to the side to catch her hazel colored eyes.
"Yes." She breathed.
"Good." Seth said getting off the chair and turning to his brother. "Ritchie take the car and go get some food."
"What about my fucking hand? You think no one's gonna notice?" Ritchie asked holding out his blood crusted hand to further illustrate his point.
"Just do the drive through." Seth replied.
"Jesus! Fine. I'll be back." Ritchie said caving in. He picked the car keys off the table and exited the room.
The kid jumped at the sound of the door bang shut. She balled her badly scraped fingers into stiff and defiant fists and sat patiently eyeing Seth. He held the curtain away from the window and watched his brother recklessly pull out of lot, dust fuming in his wake. The curtain was stained reddish brown, her blood.
"You're a fucking mess kid," Seth said examining his hands.
He turned from the window to face her.
"Jesus what a fucking day." He said, almost more to himself than the kid, as he removed his black jacket and kicked his scuffed shoes off.
"No!" She blurted out her voice suddenly strangled. She put up her fists at attention shielding her chest; the gesture was almost comical in her pathetic state. Seth furrowed his brow, but gazing at the sight of her torn hands pressing protectively against her humble breasts he summarily understood. Heat rippled through Seth as he lightly flushed with embarrassment and disgust at the thought.
"Jesus Christ kid! What the fuck do you think I am?" Seth asked as he retrieved the jacket from the chair and replaced it on his tan shoulders. Her silence spoke for itself. Seth could tell she was about to lose it. He didn't want to see that shit, for more than one damn good reason.
"Get up." He commanded his voice returning from affronted to collected.
She stood solemnly, her eyes meeting his. She flinched as his finger closed around her damaged upper arm.
"Move." He said jabbing the pistol into her back, pushing her toward the bathroom door.
P.S..: I want to keep writing this story, but I'm not posting another chapter till I can get a bit of feedback, even if its just to say that someone out there is reading and wants to have the story continue; I want it to and I hope there's someone else out there that does too. Please review.