Chapter 2: The Motel on Route 9
The red neon sign of the Route 9 Motor Inn buzzed intermittently, casting a sickly, flickering crimson glow across the snow-dusted parking lot. Daniel pulled his sedan into a vacant slot directly in front of room twelve, cutting the engine and plunging the interior into a quiet darkness broken only by the headlights of an occasional passing transport truck on the highway. He turned to look at his daughter. Dani had fallen into an exhausted, fitful sleep, her head resting against the passenger window, her blonde hair tangled around the collar of his oversized wool coat. The red mark on her cheek had swollen slightly, turning a bruised, angry purple in the shadows.
Daniel quietly opened his door and stepped out into the freezing night air. His breath plumed into thick white clouds as he walked to the office to secure a room. The elderly clerk behind the counter barely looked up from his crossword puzzle, sliding a metal key attached to a heavy plastic tab across the scarred laminate surface without asking a single question. It was the kind of anonymous, forgotten place where people went when they had nowhere else left to turn, a temporary holding pattern for lives derailed by sudden tragedy.
Returning to the car, Daniel lifted Dani into his arms, being careful not to jostle her sore face. She stirred slightly, her small arms instinctively wrapping around his neck, burying her face into his shoulder. “Daddy?” she mumbled, her voice thick with sleep and lingering fear.
“I’m right here, sweetheart,” Daniel whispered, unlocking the motel door and stepping inside.
The room smelled faintly of stale bleach and old wool. A single queen-sized bed covered in a faded floral quilt dominated the center of the space, flanked by a scarred wooden nightstand and a small television bolted to the wall. Daniel gently laid Dani down, pulling the covers up to her chin. He sat on the edge of the mattress, watching the steady rise and fall of her chest.
May you like
He pulled out his cell phone. The screen was lit up with missed calls and text messages from his mother, Elizabeth, and various other family members who had witnessed the scene at the dinner table. Come back before you ruin everything, one message read. She needs discipline, and you are acting a fool, read another. Daniel stared at the glowing screen for a long, quiet moment. Then, with deliberate slowness, he powered the phone down completely and removed the SIM card, sliding the tiny piece of plastic into his pocket before tossing the device onto the nightstand. There would be no negotiations. There would be no attempts at reconciliation. He had chosen his side, and the price of that choice was the only life he had ever known.
***
