Chapter Four

Back in the hotel room when Abby and Alice returned, they saw Derek with his mobile, recording a panicking Mike whose arms were thrashing in humiliation. Sarah must have been locked out by one of the men on the grounds that she was on the balcony whacking on the sliding doors to get in.

"I thought..." Abby yelled "I thought you were all friends!" 

"Yeah, right!" Matt chuckled as he viewed Derek recording evilly. Abby strolled over to the gallery and let in Sarah, who came in yelling and balling.

 

"They locked me outside, they did," Sarah shouted.  "They pushed Mike and after that he began to shout. At that point they took out Derek's telephone and recorded him."

 

In the wake of listening to this, Alice lurched at Derek, shouting through gritted teeth. Derek slapped her directly over the face truly hard as she slammed into him and remained in stun of his movements. He held up a couple of minutes and afterward left the room and into 1123. They could hear the door lock.

 

"Right. Me and Mike will go. I'm sorry, mate," Matt apologised to Mike who shook Matt's hand and skipped out the room.

 

"Just go!" Alice yelled. Seeing the swollen cheek, Sarah raced to the restaurant to get something for Alice's face. As she entered, she searched around and called for somebody. In any case nobody addressed her so she simply took a small scale dessert tub from the counter. Sarah ran once again through the gathering and took the lift up to the eleventh floor.

 

Sarah became gentler with the frozen yogurt tub all over when she gritted in ache.

 

"What an absolute idiot!" Abby hollered. "Look what done to your pretty face." 

 

"You OK now?" Sarah asked.

 

Alice got up without replying.

 

"We should head off to bed. It is just about 4:00 in the morning," Alice summoned. She moaned and dropped onto her bed.

"Yes, beyond any doubt. How about we get in." Sarah concurred.

 

As Alice got agreeable, she could hear Sarah and Abby as of recently wheezing. She gazed up at the roof, listening to the sounds outside the window. As she was listening to the morning sky, she heard shouts. These were not perky shouts, nor were they shout of trepidation. Alice envisioned a lady running from something. As it pounced, the battle for survival turned more terrible and excruciatingly arduous as it bit into her. The shouts were loaded with bits of dread, torment and ghastliness. Were the screams real? In the event that they were genuine, then what was it? Consider the possibility that it was something more terrible than Alice had envisioned. The shouts then ceased and at this, Alice got up quietly and shut the window, determining it was tightly closed. As she slithered into bed, she pulled the sheets over her, despite the high temperature that Alice was feeling as they were spotted in the Maldives. When she was little, she generally felt sheltered under the duvet, avoiding the shudder some, aggravating look of the confronts that those clown dolls made when they were sitting above her wardrobe, grinning forebodingly.  She shut her eyes. She soon fell quickly into a serene, dreamless smooth slumber.