The resounding silence made goose bumps run down Max’s spine. Somehow it seemed menacing, as if punching at the air. Steam was still pumping out from underneath the white bathroom door. The distant hum of the shower was the only response. She adjusted her gaze to the bathroom door. She could still hear water gushing from the showerhead. Lighthouses would forever hold a dark place in her heart. A lighthouse was pictured on the center of the shirt. The next shirt was from a guided tour company. One was black with a yellow crossing sign on the front that showed the distinct outline of the legendary monster Sasquatch. Max began rummaging through the black suitcase seated on the dresser. The noise was a gentle reminder that showers do indeed exist. Max decided that Chloe was being a ‘shower hog’. It had been the quiet closing of the bathroom door. Max turned, trying to identify the source of the interloping noise. The silence of the moment was broken by a soft metallic click.
Max wished that she had her camera to capture the image. The shadow of the silent predator was contrasted perfectly against the bright white moon. The night sky was clear and the moon was full. Max reached the glass in time to see the carcass of a rabbit being flown into the forest. There was steam lazily drifting out of the bathroom. The scream was sharp, inhuman, and piercing. A blood-curdling scream was coming from outside the window. She sat upright in the queen-sized mattress. The guilt washed over her, she felt like she might drown in it. She could no longer look at the image of herself. “You’re not a good person”, Max whispered. The two girls had barely said a word to one another. Max had been trying not to think that way all afternoon, but the dark reality of the week’s events had been hounding her all afternoon while riding in Chloe’s 1990 Chevrolet C/K. “Maybe Chloe Price would prefer someone who hadn’t killed her parents.” It was a depressing thought. Her eyes narrowed accusatorily at the image of herself. Max became still, continuing to stare into the mirror.
Would Chloe Price find her attractive? The thought made Max feel uncomfortable.
It wasn’t a thought Max had time to entertain yet. She wondered what Chloe would think of her body. Max had always felt self-conscious about her modest chest. Her frame was small, and so were her features. Max turned her body, examining her figure. It was a splash of freckles, as if a painter had flicked them onto her smooth white skin with a paint brush. Slender faced, her cheek bones guided the eye down to a smooth but defined chin. Her brown chin length hair, usually neatly brushed, was matted from the rain. She examined the face closely, as if looking at someone for the first time. Max’s dark blue eyes scanned the mirror image. Max paused as she caught her own reflection in the mirror. Chloe had purchased the container at a gas station that afternoon. She began rummaging through a large black suitcase which was sitting on the top of the shoddy piece of furniture. Max pulled herself to the end of the bed. It had been the most trying day of Max’s life. It was Friday, October 11 th, sometime after 10:00 p.m. Max felt guilty, partially for spying on her friend, but more so the guilt stemmed from her actions earlier in the day. Max blushed at the image dancing on the shower curtain. The sounds of running water were coming from the stark white threshold. Steam was pouring from the open, brightly lit room. It was apparent to Max that the Seagate had seen better days. The bottom half of the room was paneled with vertical wooden slats. The walls of the room were a nauseating dark green color. The soft 40 watt bulb weakly lit the room. There was an old box television, a queen sized mattress, an empty wooden dresser, and a golden colored lamp. The room was sparse it contained the bare minimum that a motel room should. Max decided that cheap was the word that described it best. She took in the décor of the cheap motel room. She exhaled, using her diaphragm to empty her lungs. It was nice to sit on something comforting after being confined in Chloe’s rusty metal deathtrap all afternoon. Max was enjoying the soft mattress beneath her. The soothing patter of the rain droplets clapping against the rooftop had quietly become a dull roar. The rain outside had increased in intensity over the past ten minutes. The shoddy queen sized mattress provided by the Seagate motel was far from perfect, but right now it was the most comfort she’d had in days. Maxine Caulfield was staring at the ceiling.
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