Hotel California.

With his aviators covering his eyes, Matt drove down the dark highway located in the middle of nowhere. Just two hours ago, he'd passed up several gas stations. He hadn't thought about the possibility of not seeing one for miles. He ran a hand down his face, annoyed with himself, s his eyes landed on the gas gauge, the needle stuck promptly on E.

"I am so fucked." He groaned, staring as far as he could down the highway, trying to spot a gas station. Matt tried to entertain himself with the radio but he couldn't catch a single ounce of reception. Static filled his 1967 Chevy Camaro - Anything was better than the silence he had been enduring. Several minutes later, a low sputtering sound made Matt's blood freeze in his veins.

"No," He groaned, slamming his fists against the steering wheel,"No, no, fuck no! C'mon, baby, just a few more miles!"

Despite his pleas, the car began to slow down and soon it came to a complete stop. The sun was almost out of sight, darkness replacing the light. Another groan left Matt's lips as he got out of his car, running his hand through his buzzcut. He looked around trying to take in his environment. After seeing pure nothing all around him, Matt decided it was best to continue on foot in hopes of finding someone or something to help him.

He walked forward, despite the ache in his feet as he practically trudged on. His eyes began to droop shut, his breathing hard, stomach rumbling aggressively. Matt rubbed his eyes, muttering an ugly string of profanities as he did so.

Purely out of useless energy, Matt looked up, seeing a warn down sign.

Hotel California.

He blinked once.

Twice.

Three, four times.

A hotel? In the middle of nowhere?

No, he had to be imagining things. It was probably closed down. Deserted. Matt didn't have such luck as this - There was absolutely no way. But as he got closer, the hotel was seen. It was maybe three stories tall, the lights on the main floor were on. Once again, Matt blinked, still not believing what his eyes were seeing. He ran as fast as his feet would carry him, pushing open the double doors. A lean, young man stood behind the desk, going through some papers. He looked up, meeting Matt's hazel eyes,"Can I help you, sir?"

Matt took a breathe,"Yeah, my car gave out a long way down the road. Could you call someone?"

The man nodded and picked up the phone. Matt sighed in relief and sat down, flipping through the provided magazines. First, he went through the Sports Illustrated, followed by People Magazine. The front cover page showed a very skinny Angelina Jolie. The minutes ticked by as he skimmed through an article about a school shooting in the newspaper that was on the coffee table, shaking his head in disgust at the perpetrator.

"Excuse me, sir."

Matt looked up, seeing the 'bell boy' as he liked to call him,"Yeah?"

"The tow said they couldn't find a vehicle for miles."

"But how - I know my car ran out of gas! I walked here - I left my car out on the road!"

The bell boy offered Matt a key on a ring,"It's part of our policy to offer the first few nights free. You're on the top floor, room thirty six." Matt sighed and grabbed the key, muttering a thanks, before walking up the flights of stairs.

'The tow said they couldn't find a vehicle for miles'. How could they say that? It wasn't like he'd walked here on foot willingly. He loved his car more than anything; He all but jumped at a chance to drive it.

Matt unlocked the door, admiring how plan the room was. White and a light tan - That's all it consisted of. He laid down, not bothering to kick off his shoes, as he fell into a much needed sleep.

That night, Matt's breathing grew ragged as he was sucked into a nightmare. He was being chased. By what? He didn't have a single clue. But he was running - Just running. As he continued running, his feet grew heavy. His legs turned into a red jello of some sort - It was only seconds before he realized that it wasn't jello but blood. Worse thing was: Matt couldn't bring himself to snap out of it.