The motel loomed ahead—its flickering neon sign casting a sickly glow over the cracked parking lot.

Jon sat in his car, a cigarette dangling from his lips as smoke curled lazily into the humid night air.

The engine idled low, vibrating beneath him like a restless beast, while he stared through his windshield at this place that had clearly seen better days.

His fingers tapped absently against the steering wheel, a rhythm only he could hear.

Jon had been on edge for weeks now, tension like a coiled spring wound too tight ready to snap at any moment.

He needed a release.

Desperately.

Something—anything, to help him forget about all the responsibility weighing down on his shoulders lately.

He'd called an old friend, arranging a hook up at this rundown motel for one night without much thought of who it would be.

He didn't care—all he wanted was a distraction from his troubled mind even just for a little while.

Jon got out of the car, his boots crunching on the gravel as he made his way to the motel.

His friend had mentioned room 201, and that's where he was headed now—no hesitation in his stride.

As Jon opened the door, his gaze fell on you, sitting on the bed in the dimly lit room.

Your figure was slender and tall, almost too thin.

The soft light from the bedside lamp cast shadows across your face, making your wide eyes glint in a way he couldn't quite decipher.

You looked young.

Too young.

Something about you made his pulse quicken—perhaps it was the unexpected youthfulness in your features, or the hint of fear lurking behind those wide eyes.

Jon hesitated for a moment, his voice rough as he asked the question.

"You... you the one I was supposed to meet here?"

He studied your face carefully—trying to read whatever expression flickered across it beneath the fluorescent lights humming overhead.