It's somewhat lengthy and it doesn't have a name yet. Yay!

Okay...if I'm supposed to post this somewhere else, I'm giving my permission for someone to shoot me in my fangirly head with a Nerf gun. Okay? Okay.
Oh, and yes, I realize that it's a little...dark, but it'll make sense when I post the rest of the chapters.
Hoo-ha.

~~~~~~

No, no, no, it wasn’t happening. This wasn’t real. This whole thing was a lie. The blood pooling on the floor around the dingy tiles, sinking into the grout and turning it a stomach-turning maroon color-- yeah, it was just a dream. The man’s dead eyes staring up at the mildewing ceiling; just an illusion.
Not real.
Erin’s hold on the crowbar, which had once been so savage and determined, slackened at the sight of the body. It clattered hollowly onto the ceramic floor of the bathroom, making the growing pool of blood tremble slightly. She ran her pale, thin hands over her glistening face and closed her eyes, breathing deeply.
She hadn’t done anything wrong. Nothing. It had been self-defense. Besides, it wasn’t real.
Scraggly black hair in a frizzy halo around her thin face, the girl padded out of the bathroom, trying her best to ignore the body that lay prostrate on the floor by the bathtub. She paced the hotel room several times, expression empty. Her footprints left small indentures in the orange shag carpeting.
It was all a part of their plan. That’s why none of this was real.
Their plan…There would be more. They would be looking for him. She dared a glance into the bathroom. Its normally-white walls glowed pink, reflecting the ocean of blood. Erin burped in order to fight back the powerful urge to retch. They would be looking for her. They wanted her. They needed her. But they weren’t going to get her.
Gripped by a sudden urgency, she flew to the bedside table and grabbed the small tote that had been allowed to accompany her. In it went a bra, several pairs of panties, two shirts, a worn-out pair of jeans, a flimsy wallet (containing a whopping five dollars), her paperboy hat, a pack of gum, and a small statue of the Virgin Mary. Numbly pacing again, she ran a hand through her short hair and glanced into the small, dingy mirror that the hotel had so generously provided. A sallow-faced, stick-limbed teenager with a throbbing shiner glanced back. Erin gingerly touched the outlying circle of her black eye.
The girl shook her head, clearing away the accumulated haze that had managed to conquer her vision. Something inside of her buzzed, relentless and incessant. It scratched at the inside if her skull and built up so much pressure behind her eyeballs that she felt as if they would pop. She allowed her glance to wander feebly to the bathroom once again.
She could clearly see the doorway of the bathroom, one of the man’s pale legs rising from the floor like a lumpy, irregular mountain range, surrounded by a sea of ever-churning, ever-living blood. A pale island lost at sea…
Erin became sick all over the hotel dresser.
Not real.
Gasping, the girl rose shakily to her feet, wiping her mouth with the back of one trembling hand. Then, without looking back at the fruits of her actions, Erin slipped on her shoes, grabbed her keys the man had left on the dresser, slung her bag over her shoulder, and rushed forth into the cool and welcoming embrace of the dark parking lot. She had never driven a car before. But how hard could it be?
Anyway, disappearing was going to be the easy part.