We arrived at the venue approximately 30 minutes late. I wasn’t expecting much; truthfully, I wasn’t a huge fan of the bride and projected those feelings onto the wedding. Secretly, I wanted it to suck. But I didn’t expect it to go this badly.
We checked into our room, and Andre and I settled in. I unpacked my makeup in preparation for tomorrow, and he cracked open a light beer. Andre was a groomsman, and we had two hours before we had to leave for the rehearsal dinner. We spent it watching trash TV while getting trashed on his stockpile of light beer. Basically, we were prepping for a normal weekend.
Something didn’t feel quite right to me, though. I’ve always been sensitive, but I’ve never been in the middle of a situation I didn’t have control of. I wandered across the hall in search of medicine to settle my nerves. I knew that Rebecca would have some, but she was nowhere to be found. Her boyfriend had last seen her 45 minutes ago, and he assumed she went to her family’s lake house that was just down the road. I accepted that the beer would have to settle my nerves, and I wandered back to my room.
The night before the wedding went off without a hitch throughout the rehearsal and the rehearsal dinner. We all partied until about 2 am, and I, for a moment, forgot my overwhelming feeling that something wasn’t right.
The wedding was beautiful. It was small, in the mountains of New Hampshire, with perfect decorations and delicious food. Rebecca had reappeared just before the ceremony, but she seemed a little off. Usually impeccably polished, she was tripping over cornhole boards and twirling until she fell in the middle of the dance floor. She hadn’t had anything to drink, so I chalked her inhibitions up to drugs. There really was no other explanation at the time. But I’d soon find myself to be very, very wrong.
We all went back to the hotel, and made our way down to the hotel bar. Most were stumbling there but were still served regardless. Rebecca loomed in the corner, watching us, raising the hair on the back of my neck. I went out onto the deck with Andre and Dave, and we smoked. We recounted the events of the night, and I decided to head to bed knowing I had chips in the room waiting for me, and, truthfully, wanting to get away from Rebecca’s gaze, expecting Andre to follow closely behind. I tucked myself in, chips resting on my chest while watching trash TV once again.
Suddenly I heard a loud crash outside the room. All my senses urged me to stay in bed with the door locked. My brain screamed that this would be surefire safety, but my curiosity took over and I padded my way to the door, taking care to be as quiet as possible.
I first peeked through the peephole, but saw nothing. I undid the lock carefully, and opened the door just a crack. Suddenly something slammed into the door, launching me across the room. As my world spun I recognized Mac, standing in the doorway looking absolutely feral. My brain ceased to work and my body took over, launching myself into the bathroom and locking the door.
I didn’t hear anything. I expected Mac to enter the room, but instead my ears met absolute silence. No footsteps, no breathing. The only thing I could hear was my own rapid heartbeat.
“Gemma, can I come in?” I heard Mac ask.
I didn’t respond. Still too overcome with fear, my voice simply couldn’t work. I kept thinking “NO!” and somehow it seemed like he got the hint. He didn’t ask again, and I still heard nothing. He didn’t enter.
An hour or so passed before I was able to bring myself to exit the bathroom. As soon as I did my ears were assaulted with noises of what was going on in the rest of the hotel. Screams, the crashing of furniture meeting walls, doors slamming open. It sounded like all hell was breaking loose. None of the sounds seemed close by, though, so I assumed the rampage had already made it’s way through my part of the hotel.
I pulled out my phone, but it had been smashed when Mac had thrown me across the room. I’ve always been one to explore, so I decided to take the chance and venture out of my room, against all of my better judgment.
As soon as I entered the hall all I saw was bright red. Blood painted the walls, as if they’d lined up an entire battalion and executed them by fire right there in the hallway. To my right there was an exit, and to my left there was almost guaranteed carnage. But Andre still hadn’t come back, and I couldn’t bring myself to leave without him. I ventured left.
I’d only walked about fifty yards when I first heard the hissing. Every time I spun around it would stop abruptly. I knew immediately that I was being hunted, but I still did not know by what.
I finally reached the bar where everyone had just been having fun. Right as I entered the room Mac appeared again, stepping out from behind the door into the doorway and blocking my exit. He was splattered in blood, staring menacingly at me as a chilling grin spread across his face. I scanned for exits and remembered the balcony. Knowing my choices were run or die, I ran. I exploded through the balcony doors, jumping off the edge. No one followed, but I could feel Mac watching me as peeled myself off the ground, adrenaline forcing my muscles to work and turned the corner of the building out of his sight.
Right as I turned the corner I collided with something cold and hard head first. On the ground, clutching my forehead and feeling the blood pool in my hand, I looked up to see Mike staring down at me with the same menacing grin Mac had just been wearing in the bar. I saw no way out, but suddenly I heard snarling. Mike’s gaze turned from me to the sound, and before I could even blink he vanished. Knowing that if even Mike ran from the noise I should too. I headed back into the hotel.
Every hall seemed to be painted in bright red, fresh, blood. The screams had ceased, but the crashing had not. I reimagined when Mac had broken into my room but hadn’t breached the doorway. I knew I had to get back there, to safety.
I summoned all my strength and hoped to run but instead hobbled down the hall to the stairway. I climbed the three flights slower than I’d hoped, my vision growing blurrier with each passing moment, but managed to get to my floor. I slowly cracked the door from the stairs to the hall, but was flung back yet again by someone bursting through, with less force this time. Andre was there, looking terrified. I knew whatever had gotten to the others had not gotten to him. His eyes flitted to me, but instead of coming to me he ran up the stairs to the next floor. I heard the door bang behind him, and knew I was alone once again.
I sat, in shock, scanning my brain for my next move. I wanted to follow Andre, but a feeling in my stomach told me that if I did I’d be dead. So far I’d ignored my instincts and I wasn’t going to let that happen again. I made my way to my room instead, and when I arrived I quietly shut the door behind me, hoping that this was just a dream and I’d wake up soon, somehow knowing that wasn’t the case.
I sat, straining to hear anything, but all had fallen quiet. Eventually, after a few hours had passed, I heard footsteps. As they drew closer the hissing began to ring within my ears, and I knew I had to move away from the door. Just as I flopped over the door shot open, and there was the bride, covered in blood, snarling, eyes wide and crazy, looking around the room and then directly at me. In the most sickly sweet voice she said “Gemma, may I come in?” I just stared, and after a beat simply shook my head to indicate no. Louder, she asked again. I felt something come over me, urging me to invite her in, but resisted, knowing that doing so would only spell disaster. I continued to try, and with each ask it became harder and harder to say no.
Just as I was finally about to crack and say yes, I noticed a distinct orange light begin to creep across the floor, and when I looked up to the doorway the bride was gone. I knew I only had a moment to get out. My body didn’t want to respond when I urged it to move, but somehow I got up, grabbed the keys leaving all my belongings behind, and mustered the courage to run toward the stairwell.
Just as I exited the room I felt myself get pushed into the wall. Dazed, I searched for who had hit me, and saw the bride with the same crazed look in her eyes approaching me, stopping just short of the encroaching orange light that was now pouring out of my hotel room door. She turned to close the door, and I took the opportunity to get myself into the stairwell, rolling down the stairs in hopes of not getting incapacitated. She seemed to appear right next to me as I reached the bottom floor. She lunged at me and I flailed my legs, kicking the door to the outside open, bathing her in the morning light. She screamed and lunged out of the light, but it was too late. Blisters erupted on her skin, and as they spread they turned to ash. Within moments instead of a crazed bride there was just a blood spattered wedding gown covering a pile of ash on the floor. I rolled out through the door to bask in the growing sunlight. I rested, knowing I was safe, before eventually getting in the car and driving off, head still spinning, not even thinking to check on Andre, somehow knowing that he couldn’t come with me and would not have made it through the night.
The news chalked the massacre that occurred that night to a mass shooting by a disgruntled wedding guest. I moved away from the east coast to find a new life. But some nights I hear a knock on my door and hear Andre’s voice pleading for me to let him in.