My car broke down in a storm and I had to stay at a cheap roadside motel. This is exactly why I always use the chain lock

About four years ago, my car broke down during a massive thunderstorm while I was moving across the state for a new job. My alternator completely died on a rural stretch of a two-lane highway. The tow truck driver managed to haul my car to a local mechanic in a tiny, rundown town, but it was already 11:00 PM. The mechanic’s shop was closed until morning.

I had no choice but to walk two blocks down the road in the pouring rain to the only lodging in town: a cheap, one-story roadside motel.

The lobby smelled like stale cigarette smoke and cheap air freshener. The guy working the front desk looked like he hadn’t slept in a week. He was incredibly thin, with dark circles under his eyes, and he barely spoke a word to me. He just took my credit card, handed me a plastic keycard, and pointed out the window to Room 114 at the very end of the building.

I dragged my soaked duffel bag down the exterior concrete walkway. The rain was coming down in sheets. I swiped the keycard, stepped into the room, and immediately locked the door.

I am incredibly paranoid about hotel security. I turned the heavy brass deadbolt, and then I slid the metal chain lock into place.

The room was exactly what you would expect for forty dollars. Peeling wallpaper, a bulky tube television, and a mattress that felt like it was stuffed with rocks. I was entirely too exhausted to care. I peeled off my wet clothes, turned off all the lights, and collapsed into the bed.

I fell asleep almost instantly to the sound of the rain hitting the window.

At exactly 2:00 AM, I woke up.

I didn’t know what woke me at first. I just lay there in the pitch black, staring at the ceiling, listening to the storm.

Then… I heard a very faint, metallic scratching sound coming from the front door.

I slowly turned my head. In the darkness, I could see the faint yellow light from the walkway shining through the crack under the door.

Suddenly, the handle slowly rotated.

Someone was holding the handle down, testing it.

I held my breath, terrified to make the bedsprings squeak. I figured it was just a drunk guest who had gotten the wrong room. I waited for them to realize their mistake and walk away.

But a few seconds later, I saw a small black shadow slide into the card reader slot on the outside of the door.

 The electronic lock turned green. The heavy door swung open about two inches… before violently slamming against the metal chain lock I had engaged before going to bed.

The chain held tight. The door bounced back against the frame with a loud, wooden thud.

I sat bolt upright in bed, my heart practically hammering its way out of my chest. Someone had a working keycard to my room.

I didn’t make a sound. I slipped out of bed, grabbed my heavy metal flashlight from my duffel bag, and pressed my back flat against the wall right next to the door frame.

For almost a full minute, there was complete silence from the hallway. Just the pouring rain.

Then, very slowly, a hand reached through the two inch gap between the door and the frame.

It was a pale, thin arm holding a pair of heavy wire cutters. The person was trying to blindly reach around the corner of the door to snip the metal chain lock from the outside.

I didn’t hesitate. I raised the heavy metal flashlight and brought it down as hard as I possibly could on the intruder’s wrist.

There was a sickening crunch, followed by a muffled, agonizing scream. The wire cutters clattered onto the cheap carpet inside my room. The arm immediately jerked back into the hallway, and I slammed the door shut, re-engaging the heavy brass deadbolt.

I dialed 911 on my cell phone, screaming at the dispatcher that someone was trying to break into my room. I stood in the corner of the room, clutching the flashlight, watching the door handle until the red and blue police lights flooded through the window curtains fifteen minutes later.

When I finally opened the door for the officers, they didn’t have to search very far for the intruder.

The front desk clerk the same thin, exhausted-looking man who had checked me in was sitting on the concrete walkway two doors down, cradling a shattered wrist. He wasn’t just a creepy employee. He was actively addicted to narcotics and had been using his master key to quietly enter guests’ rooms while they slept to steal cash and electronics from their nightstands to fund his habit. He preyed specifically on people who checked in late, assuming they would be too exhausted to remember to slide the manual chain lock into place. If I hadn’t been paranoid about hotel security, I would have woken up to him standing directly over my bed.

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If you are the type of person who prefers to listen to these kinds of stories to relax, study, or sleep, you can check out the fully edited version with the ambient audio and pacing here: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=FlDHSVoaq1E

I am trying to nail that classic, grounded aesthetic, so if you give it a listen, let me know if the suspense hits the mark!