Unanswered

Phone rings repeated without answer. Every second brought another digital chime until Masaru accepted that no one was picking up, and no voice mailbox was set up. His superior was not going to connect.

Ring.

When he was younger, he’d dared to hope that the loneliness and embarrassment would one day end. It never did.

ring.

Panic and confusion were sending his mind spiraling as his entire body began to scream from irritation. Hundreds of bumps were now rising along his legs, back, stomach, shoulders, neck, and face.

Part of him had imagined he might have actually liked people if they’d ever liked him. But he’d only ever been odd. Bullying, poverty, and physical strains had slowly turned him inward.

Ring

Beyond the bed bugs, the unexplained time issue and the surreal terror of Room 109 were all slamming against Masaru’s psyche as he tried to calm himself. None of this made sense. He didn’t like this place. Something was wrong with this building. Somethingwasverywrong.

RING

He’d never wanted any of this.

Masaru wanted to flee. He wanted to run far, far away from this wretched building and whatever he had just experienced. Being here felt like being trapped in the jaws of something patiently malicious. He didn’t like engaging with people, but there was an isolation here that went far beyond introversion. And now, as his superior seemingly ignored his calls, Masaru felt an all-encompassing loneliness beginning to infect his body and mind.

Ring.

Silence.

Ring.

Silence.

Ring.

Silence.

Defeat settled in and Masaru hung up in dejection. Desperate fingers bent and strained until ligaments burned with strain. He wanted to scratch. He wanted to claw. He wanted to scream. Everything itched. Darkness was seeping into his vision as his eye abandoned focus. Darkness bled from his perception and burrowed into reality. Darkness started to drift into his other eye. Darkness was overtaking him.

Horrified hands rose to eye sockets, as though trying to cup the oozing abyss and stop it. This had never happened before. Panic had never undone him this comprehensively.

“Please, calm down. Please stop,” Nasaru begged himself as tears welled in his eyes and fingers pressed against flesh with abandon.

The darkness paused its onslaught.

All Masaru could do was hold himself and slightly rock from his heels to the balls of his feet as he felt the terror move through his soul. Immeasurable waves of rage, fear, and sorrow slammed into the seawall of his mind, crashing and spraying out with brutal, leg-weakening force.

Somethingwasveryveryverywrongwiththisplace.

But he had to stay. It was already time for him to click in for another night shift. If he abandoned this place mid-work, he’d be fired for sure. Inflation was still destroying the economy, and labor markets were tight. He’d never find a decent paying job. He’d never amount to anything. He’d never escape these types of roles. He’dneverescape. He needed this job. He needed this salary.

As much as he hated to admit it, his mind was telling him he had to stay.

Slow inhales and exhales pulled stagnant air into his lungs as his eyes closed. He stood there for what may have been minutes. Then a plastic tap pulled him back to reality.

The cleaner was back. Shuffling feet scooted him along the hallway without a sound, and he didn’t even stop to acknowledge Masaru. But Masaru wanted clarity.

“Excuse me! Excuse me!!” Masaru called to the man, who stopped and slowly turned.

Masaru didn’t have time to hide his blotched face or hidden pupil. As he approached the terrified man, he failed to consider how unnerving his own complexion might be. When the man tensed and pulled his brows up in concern, Masaru understood and stopped walking.

“I’m sorry. But I need to know. What… day is it? How long has it been since my first day?!”

The man didn’t want to look at him, but his face betrayed signs of dreadful knowledge.

Three arthritic fingers raised as the man kept his line of sight away from Masaru’s white eye and swollen face.

Pick at the healing until the blood never stops..

Now the panic returned. More questions began to swirl in Masaru’s uneven mind. Finger nails pressed into bumps but didn’t scratch. He wanted to burn alive. If he could rip his soul from its moorings and cast away this wretched prison of flesh that he so despised, he would right then and there. Another frightening curiosity whispered in his ear and he struggled to stop himself from collapsing.

“What happened to the person I’m replacing? What happened to the person that worked here before me?” Masaru muttered.

Once again, the cleaner didn’t seem to want to answer. His shoulders shifted as he adjusted the weight of the basket from one hand to the other. Darting glances hinted that he had words he wished to say but either couldn’t or didn’t know how. Masaru leaned in as he felt a chill drift over his neck. The man’s lips parted.

“Gone…” was all he said.

Before Masaru could reply, he was shuffling away to continue his cleaning.

“Hey! Excuse me… these beds?! They have bed bugs!!” Masaru shouted, but the cleaner didn’t stop.

Masaru was left alone once more. Pounding thuds in his chest told him his heart rate was at least twice as high as it should be. Coldness was nipping at his fingertips and nose even though it was scorchingly hot outside. Masaru took one last glance at the door then accepted he did not have it in him to flee.

He was staying.

With that, he decided it would be best to inspect the room beside 109. He would let the cleaner know that it needed to be refreshed. Then, when closing time arrived, they would scald, treat, and wash every piece of bedding there.

Every red bump screeched with feedback as he made his way back down the low-lit hall. Noise in the ducts told him the air conditioning had reactivated. He reached the end of the hall and passed 109 to reach Room 111. He slowly opened the door to inspect the scene. A small bit of dread rose in his chest that he might find something horrific.

Those screams had been unnerving in a way he wasn’t used to, and he feared it meant something truly awful had occurred within those walls. But when he opened the door, he found the room placid and barely disturbed.

The only hint that anyone had even been there was a slight bit of fabric bunching on the bed’s comforter, and a used condom wrapper thrown on the floor.

Masaru didn’t dare step fully into the room, and he kept his hand on the doorknob through the entirety of his inspection. When he’d taken note of the space, he exited and made his way back towards the back office. Room 109’s door watched in waiting as he slowly lumbered past its simple wood exterior. The number 9 on the plaque was slightly crooked, but Masaru couldn’t bring himself to straighten it. Instead he simply continued back to his desk, with his mind now working through the logistics of how he was supposed to order, pay for, and stock such things as protection, lubrication, and food.

There was so much he’d have to figure out. And if the unanswered, unreturned calls were any inclination, he’d be on his own in figuring that out.

Pick.

As he sat back at his desk with quaint growls reminding him he had no meal waiting for him to help with the next ten hours, Masaru realized he was somehow even more miserable than he’d been in his office. Loneliness and isolation were a cruelty he hadn’t braced for. Sitting there at his desk with no company beyond the static hiss of the invasive televisions and the steady breathing of the air conditioning, Masaru felt a draining desolation deep into his veins.

Panic didn’t calm. Instead it was joined by misery, exhaustion and depressed realization. Together, those melancholy, negative sensations slammed into Masaru’s teeth and stomach until he struggled to sit upright. All he could do was clench his teeth and try not to claw at his skin until the top layers were gone.

Masaru accepted that this was all he would ever be. This was his place. And now, he would now truly be by himself.

To his great sadness, this was not a relief. He had always thought he wanted to be alone. This job should have been a joy. But as he sank into his uncomfortable chair, memories of his childhood flickered in his mind. Pointing fingers mocked his teeth and eye. Jeering words replayed his slurred speech. Classmates ran away from him, laughing as they trotted towards a sunset soaked playground. Masaru was left alone.

And all those decades later, there in Warm Embraces Hotel, he still was.