A Cupboard full of Skeletons 1

[WP] A priest, a Navy SEAL, an actress, a manager, and a construction worker check into a motel somewhere in no-man's-land in the desert. All of them have disturbing and horrible secrets and by the end of the night, only one of them will leave the place alive.

******

They all met at the Rendezvous motel, located in the middle Chihuahuan desert, South Arizona. They all had journeys ahead of them the next day, and they had just stopped for the night. The place was known as no man's land, but that did not matter to the five people who checked into that motel.

Because they were all monsters.

Father Manuel, a priest in a parish in Arizona.

Lionel Mark, a US Navy Seal en route to an undisclosed location.

Marie Aubert, a French-American up and coming actress with killer looks to match.

Alexa Michaelson, manager of one of the biggest blogs in the US.

Eric Lenard, a construction worker heading back home to his family.

This was how they all introduced themselves to each other, having met that night at that place. But they all had dark secrets; skeletons in their cupboard locked away but howling, screaming nonetheless.

Screaming to expose the devils that hid them away.

The Priest and Michaelson had their rooms opposite each other on the ground floor, while the rest all had rooms elsewhere on that floor as well. As they talked about random topics, including the current status of the world, salvation, religion, and all the other excesses of life, the Priest began to feel hot.

Was it guilt, r could he already feel the heat of the flames of damnation that awaited him?

He reached into his cassock and grabbed for his handkerchief. But something else fell down. Something brightly colored. Alexa Michaelson had seen it. The Priest had seen it. And they both knew what it was.

A brightly colored Racecar boxer-brief, belonging to perhaps a five-year-old.

The Priest looked up slowly, but Alexa was already looking at him. Her cold, excited eyes danced around, searching through his, and they found what they were looking for. The shock and guilt that confirmed the theory she came here to confirm.

Then the priest noticed the phone in her breast pocket. Women's clothes didn't always have those pockets, so this one was there for a reason. The phone had it's camera facing the priest, and then Alexa bent down, making sure it captured the object on the ground in all its despicability.

She picked it up.

"You dropped your...er, hanky," she said, handing it back to him. "Good Night, Father." she smiled, walking into her room and shutting the door.

Alexa Michaelson knew something she was not supposed to.

******

Alexa quickly settled down at her desk in her room, whipping out her laptop from her bag. She had a story to tell, a story about Father Manuel, the child-sex offender.

It was a story long in the making, beginning from the account of a scared but courageous parent.

That was followed by months of collecting witness accounts from five to ten-year-olds who had been brainwashed into thinking there was nothing wrong with what had happened - or had been mentally worked on until they could barely remember what happened. And doing all this without parents finding out.

She took a piece of dried meat from a thermos flask in her bag - those tiny cutlets were divine, especially when well spiced. The aroma of the meat-filled the air, and she smiled, eating with relish as she typed away, composing a story that would rock the entire freakin' Catholic church.

She could smell the interviews from major news networks.

A knock on her door jolted her from that reverie, and she was pissed.

"Who is it?"

"Room Service. I'm here to check out a few things with the heater."

She waltzed over to the door, unlocking it. And as she turned the handle and felt the person on the other side barge in, she suddenly remembered something.

Room Service did not maintain the heaters.

Blackout.

******

"I hope you're awake now, Alexa," a voice said.

She was numb. Her head hurt. She was dizzy, and she was sprawled on the ground of the hotel room.

The Priest Sat at the Chair, going through her laptop.

"You old fart!" she screamed, trying to stand, but she couldn't. The Priest scoffed.

"You might have suffered a concussion or two. I hit you with a heavy steel crucifix, anyway. From what I can see, you were in the middle of a particularly damning post. One that could damage my image and incarcerate me for a long, long time. I can't allow that to happen,"

"You're a vile monster. The world will know about you and your evil deeds!"

"Speaking of monsters, do you know what I've done in the past? One time I and my friends grabbed a little kid; we were about 16 at the time, and we took turns raping the boy. Sadly, he died, and we had to burn him to hide the evidence."

Alexa knew where the conversation was going.

"The smell of the boy's burning flesh is oddly similar to that of the roast beef you're eating. In fact, I would have almost believed they were the very same thing," the Priest said, formatting her laptop.

"You bast*rd! You..."

"Such things aren't too hard to follow," he said, using a syringe to suck some liquid from a clear vial. "Your laptop has been erased. I'll be taking that phone after I put you to rest now," he said, forcing the syringe into the crook of her elbow.

"You'll... never... get..."

"Suicide. Overdose. End of story. That is if your case ever gets investigated anyway. And even if it is, no one will question a Priest," he said, placing her hands on the syringe as he walked out of the room, leaving her to die.

As he shut the door to the room and turned, he saw something strange.

Eric Lenard was coming out of the actress' room. He was buckling his trousers and the light reflected off the wedding band on his finger.

For a brief moment, their eyes met, before the Priest realized something.

He was still holding on to the blood-stained crucifix he'd used to bash Alexa's face,

Eric Lenard and the Priest both knew things they weren't supposed to.

TO BE CONTINUED

@Leo_kitti @Hanzell 😜😜