Chapter Text
Third Person POV
Room 813 on floor thirteen was a nightmare for any person staying the night at the Hotel Sorrento. Back in 1979, a gay prostitute committed suicide in the hotel's bathroom. Ghost Hunters had been flocking to the Hotel ever since to find "evidence" of him and capture it on camera. The newest challengers were a team called Ghost Seekers. This team was led by Victor Fuentes. Believers like to say "Ghosts are frightened by Vic instead of him being scared of them."
He always got his evidence which was why Ghost Seekers was one of the most popular television programs. Nothing was ever faked and Vic would flat out tell you if there were no ghosts at that location. When asked about skeptics in an interview his reply was a simple one. He just said, "Some people don't want to believe in things that scare them."
Vic pulled the van up to a western motel in Tennessee to check in for a couple of nights. Him and his camera man, Jaime began to unload their equipment. They had to go over every small detail in case they didn't have the perfect night vision lens or a viewfinder got cracked. It had happened before so now they wouldn't take any chances. Another man with tattoos and a piercing in his face walked up to Vic. "Here's the research you request boss." He said and handed a manila folder over to the leader.
"Thanks." Vic said. He left the two boys to finish sorting out equipment and walked into the hotel. He walked up to the main desk and rang a bell waiting to be serviced. A young girl probably only nineteen came out of the back. "Hi, how may I help you?" She said, rolling her eyes in the process. "I'd like to spend the night but I want to request a room." Vic replied not letting her snappy attitude get to him.
"What room?" The girl asked with curiosity. Vic just smirked and said, "Room 813." The girls eyes widened and she said, "You don't want to go in that room." Vic just laughed and replied with a simple. "Yes I do otherwise I wouldn't have asked." The girl just shook her head before getting his credit card information and giving him a room key.
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He walked into the room, research file in hand. Sitting on the bed, which looked like it was hardly ever used, he began to read the file on this location. It read, "Kellin Quinn Bostwick. Born April 24th, 1960. Died June 7th, 1979 by slitting his wrists in the bathroom tub." Vic was hit with a feeling of overwhelming sadness. He knew it wasn't his own but possibly Kellin's from his life being so horrible that he had to end it that way. That was NEVER the solution to a problem that's temporary.
Vic decided to go down to the local tavern to talk to people who might give him extra information including history. He sat down at the bar and ordered a beer. "You're one of them ghost people, right?" The bartender asked giving over the requested beer. Vic nodded taking a swig of the drink. "You people always come into town looking for that boy. Newsflash, he's too shy to show himself." The bartender said.
This caught Vic's attention as it was obvious that this guy knew something. "You know him?" Vic asked. The bartender nodded. "Kellin, yeah. He was my nephew." Vic felt guilty immediately. "Oh, I'm so so sorry." The bartender just waved him off. "I know I can't stop for trying to see him but please don't film it." He said before going over to other customers.
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Kellin awoke with a groan. There was someone in his room. It had been almost a year since the last time someone barged into his space. He was furious, to say the least. Why can't people leave him the fuck alone? He looked over at his new roommate with disgust. It was a male, early 20's definitely older than Kellin. Very short possibly 5'3" and of Spanish decent.
They were always the same. Wanted to get him on camera, expose the truth. The fact was he was stuck here. It's not as if he asked to be stuck here, he just couldn't move on. Apparently, he had some unfinished business to attend too. If this sucker thought Kellin was just gonna be appear easily, then he was very wrong.
Kellin wasn't giving up this fight easily.