Writing Prompt Three

Write a quick love story. The story must end badly.

She decided to snort a line while she waited for him. Her throat became numb almost instantly. She glanced through the small opening of the hotel blinds. A moth addicted to the light from the towering lamp next to her fluttered around her head. She swatted at it to no avail.

An SUV pulled up looking incredibly out of place amongst the garbage heaps on wheels that inhabited the parking lot. The driver peeked his head over the top of the car when he got out. He knew she was watching him and put both his hands together in the shape of a heart. She blushed.

He wasn’t in the best shape, but to her he made being stout look good. He could’ve been your average trust fund baby, but he chose his own path. Which involved slightly shaggy unkept hair and classic rock t-shirts. Tonight’s shirt featured Led Zepplin.

He continued to put on a show for her as he skipped towards her room and snapped his fingers Carlton Banks style. She giggled and opened the door to greet him.

“Howdy.” He said still dancing in place. “May I come in?”

“Certainly sir.” She opened the door wide enough for him to squeeze by. Their lips met as he did.

“How’ve you been?” He asked noticing the small bag of cocaine on the nightstand.

“Living the dream.” She said closing the door behind her. He chuckled.

“I can see that.” He said pointing to the bag. “Have you thought about what I said?”

His eyes were serious despite a childlike smirk forming.

“Peter, you’re cute, but what did you expect?” She caressed his shoulder as she spoke. He gently grasped her hand and brought it to his lips, and lightly bit the tips of her small knuckles as he spoke.

“I expected you to run away with me. Bonnie and Clyde style, minus the bank robberies and and unfortunate deaths of course.” She let him run his fingers through her hair, then she grasped his hand with both of hers and responded.

“This isn’t ‘Pretty Woman’ Peter. It’s real life.”

“I know it isn’t! Julia Roberts is so overrated, but you’re not.”

His face became inches from hers and she surrendered to it at first. She embraced his tick tack induced breath and stroked his slightly unshaved face allowing his stubble to scratch the underside of her thumb. Their noses met and then she spoke.

“You’re so much better than I am.” She didn’t know what pushed her to emit those words. The drugs? The triple shot of whiskey she’d consumed a half hour before? Or was it her all on her own? Breaking through the barriers?

He scoffed. “Don’t be like that, what’s truly stopping you?”

Her face was cupped in his palms, she attempted to look away but he gently shook her head each time she tried.

“Tell me Ashley.” His eyes were wide, she was positively intimidated, yet felt comfort through the sternness in his voice.

“I’m not exactly Cinderella.” She finally muttered. The hotel room radiator came to life startling both of them through its obnoxious howl.

“Yeah and I’m not exactly prince charming. See? We’re perfect for each other!”

She giggled again the way that only he made her, then she sat down on the bed behind her and pulled down her skirt. It was much too small for her anyways, it sank to the floor exposing her.

“No panties tonight?” Peter remarked. He pounced on her firmly gluing her to the bedspread. Both her wrists were locked underneath his slightly chubby palms.

“Figured I’d save you an extra step.” She remarked as he yanked off his shirt and did the truffle shuffle.


They had made love twice. Ashley hated that term despite how well it fit. Like Peter whenever he was inside of her. It wasn’t just for the end result. It was for the whole shebang. What they felt for one another expressed through body heat.

Ashley glanced at her phone. Peter was in a deep and satisfied sleep next to her. Both of his arms covered beneath his pillow. He was on his stomach with his head facing hers. Kissing his forehead she hoped that he would feel it in his dreams. It was 5:30 in the morning. Two more hours and Damien would arrive to put an end to this. She decided then that it wasn’t going to end that way. Not this time.

“Peter.” She spoke between shaking him awake.

“Hmm…?” Peter lifted his head up and opened one eye. “Oh hey, when did you get here?”

Ashley playfully shoved his face back into the pillow and then spoke. “We have to leave sleepy head.”

Peter’s eyes perked up. He wiped the sleep from them and then smacked his face on either side to further engulf consciousness. Then shot up startling Ashley momentarily, he was standing atop the bed completely naked with his hands on his hips.

“Okay! I’m ready!” He announced. She burst into laughter and then stood up with him equally nude. She was positively skeletal due to her drug habits, and covered from head to toe in tattoos, her hair was fine and bleach blonde.

“Me too.” She said, they kissed. She pulled away when he began to kiss her neck.

“Hey there killer, we really do have to leave.”

Peter looked momentarily confused then shrugged it off. “No time like the present!” He was off the bed now gathering his clothing, Ashley did the same. Then when they were both fully dressed she grabbed him by the arm to keep his attention.

“There’s something I have to tell you.” She was avoiding his gaze. He touched her chin causing her to make eye contact.

“Yes?” He asked. She sighed deeply and closed her eyes.

“We’re in danger.”

Peter placed both palms on her shoulders. “What do you mean?”

Ashley shook his hands off of her and took two steps towards the window. A giant raven tattoo took up most of her back, its head peeked out from under her tank top. A look of sorrow appeared to overtake its face as Peter stared at it feeling uneasy. “There’s a man who’s ‘in charge’ of me.”

Peter was next to her now with his palm placed on the wall. He was desperately trying to meet her gaze but she wouldn’t let him.

“You mean like a pimp?” There was curiosity sprinkled over his words, not fear. It through Ashley off for a moment.

“He hates that term.”

Peter sat down on the bed behind her. “What does he call it then?”

“He’s my employer.”

“Classy.” Peter was shaking his head.

“This is serious, he wants you dead.” She had turned to face him now.

“Really? Why?” Once again, there was no fear in his words. Then he chuckled. “Hasn’t he ever heard ‘the customer is always right’? Or did he skip that lecture at pimp school?”

“Listen to me!” Her voice was stern finally causing a wave of concern to inhabit Peter’s facial features. “He’s killed clients before over me. He gets jealous.”

“He has a funny way of showing affection.”

Ashley’s eyes widened causing Peter to lock into her gaze. “If we don’t leave now he’ll kill you. Do you understand?”

Peter stroked his stubble, stood up, and paced the room. “What am I up against?”

“What?” Ashley asked surprised at his reaction.

“Does he have friends? What kind of weapons of mass destruction does he carry? Etcetera.”

“This isn’t something you can prepare for Peter! I’ve been through this before.”

Peter spoke up cutting her off. “You’ve been through this before?”

“Not with men I care about. He hates clients who use me too often.”

“Is that all I am to you?! A client??” Peter’s hands were brushing his hair out of his eyes constantly at this point. The way they always did when he was agitated.

“I love you.” Ashley gasped. Neither of them had ever said it, but the reality was always there. Beneath the sheets, the money that Peter left on the nightstand, the drugs, and the fifth of whisky he often brought for her. Ashley had asked him once why he spent so much on her and he replied: ‘Because you’re worth it.’

“I love you too.” He finally said and then shrugged. “Figured that was obvious though.”

Ashley embraced him and buried her face in his chest. “Then lets get the fuck out of here and never come back.”

Peter pulled away from her and grabbed his keys off the night stand, then spun around to face her with a wide smile spread across his face. “Lets.”


Despite her protests Peter was down the street grabbing coffee and donuts for the two of them. Ashley was waiting in the SUV.

“No runaway couple should be without coffee and donuts!” Peter had firmly stated before he left.

Ashley had flushed the remaining drugs she had down the toilet, she was smoking a cigarette now to calm her nerves. It wasn’t helping. She was constantly surveying the area for any signs of Damien. Peter finally came out of the coffee shop down the street and was walking towards the car with a drink carrier for the coffee and a fat bag of donuts. He scrunched his face and smiled at her. She returned the gesture.

A figure in a large gray sweatshirt with the hood pulled over his head stepped out from the alley behind Peter. He had a bandana pulled up over his face. It was bright purple, the color that Damien often wore. Ashley’s face froze in horror.

“Run Peter!” She screamed. Peter jolted around, the figure had a hand in the pocket of his sweatshirt. The shot could be heard three blocks away. A stray cat looked up for a moment, then continued to consume the remains of a dead raven in the middle of the street.

Like what you read? Give Ryan Hessel a round of applause.

From a quick cheer to a standing ovation, clap to show how much you enjoyed this story.