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Neon Moon
chapter four

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❛ i've been doing a good job of makin'
'em think i'm quite alright. but i hope
i don't blink. you see, it's easy when i'm
stomping on a beat, but no one sees me
when i crawl back underneath. ❜
— Fake Happy, Paramore

SHE STOOD SILENTLY BEHIND KATE. The young girl took the room key from the receptionist with a frown. The older man had been very obnoxious speaking to her. Slowly, Marisol approached the counter.

Kate gave her a thumbs up as she left the lobby, heading straight for the RV. Marisol drew in a deep breath, preparing herself for his sour attitude. "Hi," she greeted him politely, plastering on a fake smile. His eyes narrowed at her in response.

"I was wondering... is there any way I can rent a room for an hour or so? Just until I can get a rental car?" Disgust crept across the old man's features. He scoffed. "I do not rent my rooms to women of the night," he spat venomously. "Go. Before I call the police."

Marisol stared back at him in surprise. What made him jump to such a conclusion? Worriedly, she glanced down toward her attire. She was in a simple t shirt and a pair of jeans. If anything, she looked like a tired soccer mom. She looked back toward the receptionist with a slight laugh.

Before she could speak, he snapped, "I said no! Get out of here!"

          Red flushed beneath her skin. Her eyes widened in disbelief at this man'd gall. She flinched at the anger boiling inside of her. "I just need somewhere to stay," she said between clenched teeth. "I'm literally by myself, and will be by myself until my rental car gets here!"

          "I'm not some old, naive geezer, lady. I know what your kind of people like to get up to these days." She leaned forward, hands pressed to the granite counter top. He took a step back, surprised by her actions.

          The politeness in her tone had finally vanished. She was seething with anger and disgust. Her fingers drummed over the cool surface, her eyes not once faltering from his weary gaze.

          He cleared his throat uncomfortably. "You will not believe the last day and a half I've had. I really just want to relax in an air conditioned room with an actual bed rather than a dingy bar full of creeps. Okay?"

For a moment, she thought he was going to agree. She knew that she could come across as intimidating, especially when she was tired. But the old man would not quit. "Isn't that where people normally pick up hookers?"

"I am not a hooker!" she shouted. Her hands slammed down on the counter out of annoyance. "Jesus fucking Christ. I'll pay you whatever you want for the hour. I just want a bed!" She hadn't wanted to risk spending a lot of money on something so small, however the idea of sitting outside in that heat while she made some calls made her want to curl into a ball.

His interest seemed to peak at her words. Brows wiggled as he pointed at the book next to her. "Sign in, please." His cheerful tone felt like nails on a chalkboard. She snatched the pen from the counter and signed an alias onto the line. Mary Rose. She finished off with a fake signature and the date.

"First or second floor?" The urge to reach over the counter and choke the man grew with every second she stood in front of him. His cocky grin, the humor in his tone. "I don't care," she responded sourly. Dick.

          He turned toward the cork board of keys. He plucked one off without a second thought and tossed it onto the counter. "When you leave, make sure to tell housekeeping to clean your room," he told her. She swiped the keys with a heavy glare.

109, it said. Her fingers wrapped completely around the key and its chain. "Yeah, okay," she replied sarcastically. "Fuck you, dude. Seriously." With a flick of her middle finger, she stalked back toward the front doors. The RV had been moved. She had guessed they left to park and get to their room.

          She stopped under the awning with a sigh. "What am I doing?" she whispered to herself. She smushed her hands into her back pockets. What was she doing? Did she really think that she could talk Richie into turning himself in — talk both of them into turning theirselves in? Is she crazy?

          She glanced toward the front of the motel. It had a nice pool with lounge chairs. It seemed deserted at that moment. If only she had packed for an actual vacation instead of a martyr mission. Could she truly call herself a martyr, though? She'd rather die before letting someone hurt the brothers, and she'd rather die than let them hurt someone else. Either way, she pictured this being her last mission.

          Why did this all feel so selfish? Was she doing this to stop innocent people from dying, or was she doing this to cleanse her own soul? Was she doing this to get answers that could help her lay to rest peacefully?

          Everyone's a little selfish, she reminded herself with a shake of her head. Pushing back those thoughts, she headed off toward the rooms. She was on the first floor, right by the stairs. There was a big family next door. She could hear the young kids running around while their mother tried to get them dressed.

          Inside, it was chilly. It was a single bed with a television and a small table next to the window. The bathroom door was wide open, the light left on. She kicked the door closed behind her and dropped her duffel bag on the table.

          What to do?, she thought, moving aimlessly around the room. She had to call the rental car company and pray that a car would be available. She also wanted to check up on her own car, or give an update to Elena. She at least wanted the older woman to know she's alive.

          Her eyes kept creeping back toward the bathroom. A shower sounds nice, she sighed inwardly. It had been so hot, and so long since her last shower. She probably needed one desperately. Her head tilted as she thought it over.

          Fuck it. She snatched the bag from the table and marched toward the bathroom. She at least deserved to be clean.

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Steam billowed from the bathroom once she had opened the door. The mirror was so fogged up that she couldn't see through it. She hissed upon the cold air hitting her wet skin.

          Hurriedly, she padded across the room to switch it off. Water collected on her skin and at the ends of her hair. She brushed a wet strand from her face with a sigh. A nice, long, hot shower was always refreshing. She felt like a new person, like she had shed off the dead shell of her past self.

She held the white towel tighter to her chest. Her blunt nails raked over the skin of her chest. She sighed. Her brain was stumbling. Though the shower felt needed, it made her feel tired. She waddled toward the nightstand and pulled open the drawer. There sat a Bible and a phonebook inside. She took out the phonebook and let it fall onto the nightstand with a thud.

"Housekeeper!"

She gasped in fright at the sudden voice appearing just outside of her door. A sigh echoed in the silent face. "Um, no thanks!" she called back, cringing at the tightness of her voice. The knob jiggled a bit. "I just signed in! The room is fine!"

The jiggling stopped, and silence followed. Vaguely, the wheels of the cleaning cart could be heard wheeling away. She frowned. Is everyone at this place an asshole?She shuddered at the thought. At least she was only going to be there for a little longer.

She hurried back to the bathroom to grab her phone. She also swiped a pair of underwear and a shirt, toting the two back into the main area. Swiftly, she tossed the three things onto the bed and began patting down her skin.

After drying off her legs and her torso, she tossed her hair up into the towel. It probably wouldn't do much considering the terrible quality of the fabric. But she ignored the dampness and started to dress. First her underwear, next the shirt. The clean fabric felt soft against her fresh skin.

A grimace crossed her features. Without a second thought, she plopped down onto the bed. The mattress wasn't as soft as it had appeared, but it definitely beat her car seat. She snatched one of the pillows and wrapped her arms tight around it. Her eyes slowly began to droop closed.

You really shouldn't be sleeping right now, that voice warned her. She nuzzled further into the soft pillow. "I know," she mumbled, her voice muffled by the object. "But I'm so tired..."

The light behind her eyelids began to dim as she plummeted further into the land of dreaming. Her body suddenly felt so light, her heartbeat slow and calm. She sighed instinctively.

No! She startled at the intensity of the voice. Her eyes snapped open in surprise, arms tightening around the pillow. The bliss, the ecstasy of a warm bed slowly vanished as the events of the day replayed in her sluggish mind.

          Richie, Seth, multiple murders, a bank robbery, the Rangers, a fire, her car. A groan slipped past her lips as she heaved herself back onto her knees. She couldn't rest now, not when she was so close. If she could just somehow beat them to the border...

          Sitting up, she grabbed her phone and the phonebook. The large book rested on her thighs as she flipped back to the yellow pages. There had to be a car rental, right? She knew that she couldn't wait until the Fullers were ready to go, and who knows if they'd even allow her to join them on their trip again? One act of kindness was enough.

          Her finger dragged slowly down the page until she came across one. Her eyes lit up upon reading the name. Gringos Rental. It was a little stupid, but she brushed it off. Instead, she flipped open her phone and began dialing the number listed.

          As it rang, she navigated through the room. She pulled on a pair of pants, brought her bag back into the main room, and decided to take it outside. Perhaps the sun would wake her up and steal her away from the clutches of lethargy.

          "Gringos Rental. How may I help you today?"

          She breathed out a sigh of relief as the door clicked shut behind her. The keycard was buried deep into her back pocket. "Hi! Yeah, actually, I need to rent a car," she answered, a newfound chirp in her voice.

          "Mhm." She brushed back her still damp hair from her face, leaning back against the motel wall. "May I know the location where you want to pick up your car?"

          She glanced up at the large motel sign. "Uh, yeah, I don't know the address, but I'm staying at the Dew Drop Inn." The operator made a noise, followed by the typing of a keyboard. "My car broke down and I'm supposed to be meeting a few girlfriends from high school."

          "Yes, ma'am. I have your location set. What about a time for departure and time for return?"

          What time is it?, she wondered. Taking out the keycard, she muttered a "one second," and turned back to her door. Before she could walk in, however, she heard a familiar voice shouting.

          Her head snapped up above her. It definitely came from the next floor. "Jacob?" she whispered to herself. The door slamming closed followed the sound, causing her to jump in surprise.

          "Ma'am?" She threw the door to her room open and headed straight for her bag. She dug around until she came across her badge, her vest, and her gun. "Ma'am, are you still there?"

          Could this be it? Was she about to face off with the villains of her youth? The vest felt tight against her torso, velcro sticking together tightly. She decided to switch into a tighter shirt underneath and slip a night shirt over it. It made her look a little bulky, but the boys hadn't seen her in so long. Who's the say she could stay fit all these years?

          Without a second thought, she darted out of her room and up the stairs to the next floor. She could vaguely remember spotting the number on Kate's keys before she waved her goodbye. 206? 207? Her footsteps were silent as she stealthily maneuvered over the concrete.

Everything was happening so fast. Her heart was pistoling inside of her chest, her ears, and her fingertips. Her grip on her gun had never been tighter. She stopped in front of room 206 and leaned into the door. Inside, she could barely hear two voices. One man, one woman. They seemed to be arguing over something. Maybe their relationship problems, Marisol wasn't too sure, neither did she car.

Crouched, she slowly advanced to the next door. She used the wall to support her balance, straining her ear to catch a glimpse of anything. She had been so sure that she had heard Jacob yell, even though she had hardly heard the man speak before. Only in short replies or the occasional grunt he made to acknowledge her.

Please, she began to plead internally. Her eyes screwed shut and she slowly leaned closer to the door, careful not to force any weight on it. Please, help me.

It was then that she finally heard something. Two male voices, too old to be Scott's and too smooth to be Jacob's. They were unrecognizable, though a splash of familiarity misted her thoughts. The words were hard to make out from her spot. What could she do?

Her eyes snapped open and locked onto the next door. An idea popped into her head. Motel walls are always so thin. If she could get in next door, she could get a better advantage. Her legs began moving on their own accord, bringing her to a stop in front of the door.

          Taking her badge from where it clipped to her hip, she finally rose to her feet and knocked onto the door. The argument died down, a silence falling over the area. Quick!, she thought. Say something!

          "Pizza delivery!" she called out, cringing at the words that escaped her mouth. A few seconds passed before footsteps could be heard approaching her. She just needs to get in there. Don't make this difficult, she begged no one in particular.

          The door swung open to reveal a middle aged couple. Marisol quickly raised her finger to her lips, the other showcasing her badge. The man stepped to the side, an awestruck expression washed over his features. The door closed gently behind her.

          "Wha– Am I being arrested?" he asked, fear evident within his golden eyes. She ignored the fearful tremble of his voice and instead made her way toward the wall. "No," she eventually answered. "I believe there's a suspect I have been chasing next door and I need a way to listen in."

The woman gasped. Her lover, or whoever he was, approached her carefully to console her. Marisol felt that familiar twinge of guilt in her stomach, but chose to ignore it. She pressed her ear against the wall and prepared to listen in.

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Jacob, Richie, Scott. All that was left were Kate and Seth. Marisol stood by the door, eyes locked on the man listening in on their conversation. The clock was ticking. Time was starting to run out.

          Can you do this? She drew in a shaky breath. That question had repeated in her mind ever since she left that liquor store. Was she going to be able to look Seth or Richie in the eyes and persuade them to trust her? Two boys who grew up with a tainted view of trust. How did she expect to gain it so quickly?

          "They're leaving," the man whispered, and Marisol was back in action. She clicked off the safety and cocked her gun before throwing open the door and stepping out. First was Kate. She stared back at Marisol in surprise. Marisol gifted her a comforting smile, only for it to drop upon meeting Seth's eyes.

          It didn't take him long to recognize her. Despite the years they had been apart, she was still his Marisol. His lips parted in surprise. Her heart hammered inside of her chest like a jackhammer. "Hi, Seth," she greeted him, her voice strained. Kate's eyes widened at the familiarity in her tone.

          Breaking out of his stupor, Seth lifted his gun. That confident smile graced his thin lips. "Been a while, Mari," he replied sweetly. "You look nice." She snorted. He was trying to sweet talk her. "Give it a rest. We're not sixteen anymore."

          Despite her words, she found it hard to calm her raging heart. A sweat broke out at her brow. Her finger trembled against the trigger. He looked beautiful, even more so than when they were kids. The beard was really doing wonders for his jawline. Her eyes struggled to remain on his, but it didn't seem like he noticed.

          Much like her, he was finding it hard to focus. She had grown so much since that night. Her hair was darker, her curves more prominent. She hadn't grown much taller. He liked that. She was still the same, despite the years that added on to her face. "Yeah, that's true," he finally answered. "Thank God, though, right? No more puberty."

          "Where's Richie?" she asked. His eyebrows jumped in surprise, but he was quick to mask it with a grin. His head tilted ever so slightly, his free hand fisting the fabric of Kate's shirt. "Richie? Why do you need Richie when the one thing you've always wanted is right here?"

Her grasp on the grip tightened painfully. "You know why," she spat back. "He's dangerous. He needs help." A fire erupted behind Seth's eyes. How dare she? The one person he trusted to understand was mimicking back the people who wanted them dead. "Really?"

He took a menacing step forward, but Marisol didn't budge. She kept strong, ignoring the way her body sang for him, the way it craved him almost as much as the air around her or the water she drinks. "And what kind of help is that, huh?" he challenged her. "You gonna lock him in a dark cell and throw away the key?"

"He needs professional help, Seth," she continued to argue. "He needs to be stopped before he kills someone else." He scoffed. The leverage of his gun faltered as his shoulders slagged. Marisol flinched at the loose movements. "Stop waving that fucking gun around!" she exclaimed.

She hadn't meant to sound so nervous. She hadn't meant for her tone to waver so much. It was too late, he had noticed. "Just let us go, Mari," he sighed, training the barrel of the gun in her direction. "You wouldn't shoot me anyway. Want to know why? Because you love me. If you didn't, you wouldn't have come all the way out here from wherever the fuck you ended up."

"Seth, I loved you with every piece
of my heart. I still love you. Please, please don't make me shoot you," she begged him. Her eyes were beginning to sting. She wasn't sure if it was from sweat falling into her eyes or her own emotion overtaking her. Either way, she hated to blink the pain away, hated to take a single second from watching his movements closely.

          That single second proved to be just what Seth needed. A blinding pain ripped across her arm, spinning her in the same direction. She released a gasp, gun falling from her grip. She hadn't had time to register the first gun shot, but the second echoed in her brain.

          The impact had her falling backward onto the floor. For a brief moment, she thought she had seen that Ranger from the liquor store. A curse slipped past her lips, tears flowing more freely from the corner of her eyes. A numbing weight sat in her chest, making it hard for her to breathe.

          Three more gunshots followed, the sound of two men hitting the ground next. She couldn't move. Her palm rested against the vest she wore, the hole from the bullet wide in her shirt. "Rizo?"

          The nickname made her flinch. She peered up, shaded by the towering body of one Richie Gecko. A small smile found its way onto her features. "Hiya, Rich," she responded, her tone breathless.

          She watched as he knelt over her. His smile was just as childlike as she remembered. "Need a hand?" Before she could answer, he had hooked his hands under her arms. With little grace, he helped her to her feet and moved her toward the door he had earlier kicked down. "Stay here. I gotta get Seth."

          "No, Rich, wait," she called after him. His eyes trailed from her watery ones to the blackened hole in her shirt. Confusion swept over his features. "You're hit," he deadpanned. She waved it off. "Bulletproof vest," she answered the question she was sure was milling in his mind.

          "Like a cop?"

          She swallowed. That warmth dissipating to a frozen chill. Slowly, she nodded her head. "Yeah," she responded with a wheeze. "Yeah, like a cop."

          He had already killed several cops before. What made her think he wouldn't do the same to her? It was obvious, now, that she wasn't there to aid them in their escape. No, she was there to foil their plans. She was there to take them both away forever.

          He took a calculative step closer to her, his eyes not once wavering from her own. His hand stretched between them, moving closer and closer until the pads of his fingers pressed into her arm. A hiss sounded from her teeth as she reeled away. "You're hit," he repeated, turning back to the door joining all of the rooms.

A bullet ripped through the door handle, sending it flying off. He kicked through that door and into the next empty room. Marisol quickly ripped off her shirt, careful around the graze. Seth had shot her. He had actually shot her.

Another bullet and the sound of wood breaking hit her ears. She next stripped the vest. It was starting to feel suffocating. The bullet was crushed against the hard padding, landing right above her right breast. Thank you, she silently prayed. If she had been stupid and left without the vest, she would have bled out.

Footsteps approached as she attempted to tie the shirt around her bicep. Her eyes met Seth's momentarily. "Come on," he demanded, motioning with his hand for her to stand. She dropped the sleeve of her night shirt and scoffed. "Are you crazy?" she asked him. "After you shot me?"

          "Don't be such a baby," he retorted. "It was a graze, and an accident." Her eyes narrowed dangerously at him. When she didn't move to stand, he decided to grab her non-injured arm and haul her to her feet. "Come on."

          She grabbed his wrist in disbelief, but the sound of gunshots had her reacting. Richie dragged Kate out while Seth matched Marisol's stride. "I should have shot your ass," she muttered, hand now pressed to her bleeding wound. Seth laughed, a laugh so soft that Marisol thought she had dreamed it.

          They were about to turn the corner when she heard the Ranger's voice. "Freeze!" he shouted. Instead, Seth shoved Marisol forward and shot at the man. Richie met her eyes for a moment. The darkness within them was enough to have her shuddering. She knew that she couldn't escape, not then.

          Warmth splattered across her face, surprising her. Seth hissed, once again pushing Marisol to move. "Go, go, go," he demanded. Before she could follow Richie and Kate downstairs, Seth tugged her in the opposite direction. She stumbled up the stairs, landing harshly on her knees. "Seth!" she growled his name, fighting against his grip on her arm.

          "Hurry up. Unless you want to get killed?" The knees of her jeans tore from the contact with the concrete. She pushed herself up despite his incessant tugging. "Probably better than being with you right now," she spat back. Seth flashed her his signature grin. "You're breaking my heart, baby."

          "Keep talking and I'll break your face." The two climbed the next set of stairs before Seth leapt to the roof, helping her climb up after him. She struggled to balance over the shingles. Another leap and they were onto a flat surface. The RV was parked right beneath it.

          "You first." She glanced toward Seth, a frown evident on her features. Heights... Heights were never her strong suit. She gulped. "No, I'm not doing that," she responded. Seth, impatient, sighed. He grabbed her wrist, taking in her fearful eyes.

          "Remember the slide?" he asked her. Her heart leaped into her throat. His fingers tightened around her skin, so tight that she was sure he could feel her pulse quicken. "It's just like that. Close your eyes, and push off."

          "Last I checked, you were the one scared of the slide," she sighed. A smile graced his mouth, showing off his perfect teeth. She almost forgot about where they were, what had happened. She felt the way his eyes drew her in, like a buoy in the middle of the ocean, like a light at the end of a tunnel. It was a whisper of her name, beckoning her closer.

           "Don't move!"

          The light faded once she felt his hand press into her chest and give her a hard push. A scream ripped through her throat. The flat ground vanished from beneath her feet and the sense of falling overwhelmed her. It was a short fall, one that ended with her back landing on the hot surface of the RV.

          Her breath escaped her. The metal burned at her skin. She coughed, a heavy weight choking her lungs. "Hijo de puta," she wheezed. Her eyes stared blankly up at the bright sky.

          Slowly, she began to roll over toward the edge of the RV. If she could get to the ground, she could make a run for it. Even impaired, she knew that she could manage to slip away. She was agile, stealthy, and calculative. She still had hope.

          She finally rolled off and into a pair of strong arms. Her eyes met Richie's and her hope dwindled. "Sorry, Rizo," he sighed. "Looks like you're stuck with us now."

rumi says . . .
ITS HERE ITS HERE ITS HERE

mariseth is back together again!!!
i am so freaking excited for this. this
was such a big part of my planning process
and i wasn't too sure if i'd be able to write
it. but here we are & it's so much better
than i had anticipated!!!

i hope you guys enjoyed it!
feedback is seriously appreciated!