Motel Hell

Lora took her revolver with her into the motel room and the single suitcase she carried with her. It'd been the only thing she could pack while he was at work. She scrambled with the key, put it in the lock, quickly opened the door, closed it and locked it again. She never thought she'd be able to escape the terror of the abusive relationship with her boyfriend. It always seemed no matter where she moved, he'd be lurking in the shadows nearby like a ghost waiting to remind her she'd never be able to run. Five years of being terrified he'd come home, beat on her until he felt better and then dragging her into their bedroom had been enough. It'd been her personal hell and for the longest time, no one knew. Okay, stop thinking about it. Lora pulled some of the ramen she'd gotten at a discount from the last Wal-Mart she stopped at... Outside, things had gotten strangely quiet. The rain slowed to a gentle patter on the ground, replaced by the looming fog drifting over the tarmac. Only the soft orange glows of the wrought iron lamps offered any reprieve from the gloom. Sleep began tugging at Lora until the beeping of the microwave interrupted. Jumping, Lora cursed. Get a grip. This is just a motel. What'd you think was going to happen? She tried calming herself. Until she saw the doorknob slowly twist open...