I'd like your opinions on a story of mine

Hey guys. Could you guys give me feedback on a short story I wrote. It's only a first draft, so I know there are some things to fix. I'm looking more for your sense of entertainment and enjoyability while reading it. However, if you see a glaring flaw in the actual writing, please let me know.

Hotel K...

Wind.
\tFreedom.
\t
\tRichard rode. He had no destination in mind - no goal - he just rode. At least he called it riding. In truth, he was running. Sixteen years of building a life, only to be forced to run from it in four seconds.

\tScared.
\tAshamed.
\tPleased.

\tRichard ran from that last one the most. He understood the fear and the shame, but he had not expected the pleasure. The explosion of untainted joy in his single act of madness; or was it his first act of sanity?

\tAnd so he rode the dry vein of US-77. His bike roared its ferocious cry, all the while calming him like the purr of a kitten. The desert air was arid. His nose was raw. The sun had spent the day attacking him at every turn, and now it was dipping below the line of mountains. Richard won. He'd played chicken with the sun and won.

\tAhead, Richard spotted a sign of civilization. A single building in the vastness of the desert. As he got closer he could see the remnants of a sign. The bottom portion was torn away, making the sign read “Hotel K”. He pulled in.

\tAs he dismounted his bike, Richard became certain that it would be just a mere few weeks before the desert reached out and claimed the hotel.

\tThe interior was worse. Once burgundy paint had faded into a dingy pink. Pieces of wallpaper were frozen in their escape. Two chairs stood their eternal sentry on either side of the door. The dead plants beside them were not so lucky. A customer service counter stood before him. Dingy pink crept up from the base of the counter; then a window; then white paint the rest of the way up. The counter yawed at him.

And standing in the window was a real-life punk princess. Raven hair? Check. Narcissistic mascara? Check. Blood-red lips, with just a hint of black outline? Check. She was punk gorgeous.

Richard stepped up. “Are you open for business?
She pursed her lips in a puckered smile. “Always.” She picked up a pencil and opened a registry. “How long you stayin'?”
Richard looked down. His contemplative posture was always down. “I don't know. Do you have a short-term residency rate or something?”
She looked up. “We have a nightly rate. You pay daily and we'll have no problems. You can check out anytime you want.”
“Deal.”

Richard found his room. 203. He didn't even check to see if the bed was worthy of people. He simply dropped face first onto it and slept.

***

Richard opened his eyes. Where was he? His eyes darted around the portion of the room he could see without moving his head. The hotel.
It was dark out. The reds and oranges had changed to grays and blacks. He sat up and rubbed his eyes.
Memories of the previous night crept back. His pulse quickened. He couldn't stay here. But first, he needed to eat.
As Richard headed toward the stairs, he could hear music growing louder. It sounded like the restaurant had a live band. It calmed him.

The dining room was full of people. Twenty. Twenty five? It was an eclectic mix. At the table nearest the entrance to the dining room was a gentleman and a young woman straight out of the ‘20s swing club scene. They were laughing. Across the room, sitting alone at the bar, was a girl who couldn't be older than eighteen. She was a stark contrast to ‘20s couple near the front. Where they had just walked off the set of Swing Kids, she had just came off set of Saved By The Bell. Side pony tail and all.
Cough.
Richard flinched a bit at the sound. Standing beside the dining room door was a maitre ‘de. Richard looked to him.
“Do you wish to be seated, sir?”
Richard glanced back in. “No thanks. I'll sit at the bar.”
“Very well, sir.” The maitre ‘de immediately forgot Richard existed.

Richard sat down next to ‘90s girl. She was nursing a beer that she couldn't be old enough to even have.
He glanced at her. “You even old enough to drink that?”
He could only see her right profile, but he did not miss the curl of her lip into a smile.
He turned to her. “I'm Richard.”
She turned to him...
Richard recoiled and yelped. “No.” He knocked over his drink that had just been placed on the counter.
The girl. The right side of her face was destroyed. Missing from the forehead to the cheek bone.
Richard opened his eyes. The girl's face was back to normal. She was smiling.
“Sorry about that.” He began to recover. “I thought I saw something.”
A small smile curled the corners of her lips again. “This place will do that to you. I'm Kara, by the way.”
The bar was beautifully built. A black marble-top counter stretched the length of it. Chrome paneling framed the marble. Mirrors adorned the back wall and the ceiling, making it feel a lot larger and more open, even with bottles and glasses blocking large portions of it. Water trickled down parts of the mirrors. Nevertheless, Kara was what took his breath away. She carried herself with a dignity that no eighteen year old could possess.
Richard shook his head to free his thoughts. Why was he lusting over this girl after everything that had transpired over the past few days.
“Nice to meet you, Kara.”
Kara turned back and started playing with her drink. “So, how did you find this place?”
“It was just along the road. Thought I'd stop for the night.”
She looked at him again. Deep, searching eyes. “No, I mean, what brought you here? People don't just find this place. It is only for very specific people.”
Richard winced. There was no way this girl could know what happened. What was she talking about?
“I don't really understand your question. I'm on a bike trip and needed a place to stay. I saw the hotel and decided to pull in.”
Kara gave him a knowing smile. “Ok. That's cool. Everyone tells their story eventually though. I can't wait to hear yours.”
Richard chuckled. “That'll have to be up to fate. I'm heading out after I get something to eat.”
“Well then.” Kara raised her glass to signal a toast. “Let's see what fate has in store for us.”

The two of them sat at an empty table next to a group of three guys. This really was the strangest place Richard had ever been to.
“Kara. Is this a costume party or something?”
Kara barked a laugh in mid sip, sending her into a coughing fit. “No. It's not a costume party,” she said after recovering.
Richards look of confusion deepened. “I just can't grasp it. At the table next to us is a greaser, a nerd, and a headbanger. Doesn't that seem weird to you?”
Kara stared off at nothing, and her eyes glazed over. “It used to.” She regained herself. “Could we talk about something else? We don't have much longer before...uhhhh...the dining room closes, and I would like to enjoy myself.”

The evening passed quickly. Kara and Richard made small talk, and others would occasionally plop down at the table and join in. It seemed like everyone knew each other. Stranger so, it seemed like everyone liked each other.
An ancient grandfather clock, which hadn't rung on any other hour, began gonging for the eleven o'clock hour. Richard turned back to look at it.
“God, it's that late,” he said, turning back to Kara. “I have to get...”
Kara's face was pale.
“Kara, what's wrong?”
Her eyes were wide with fear. “She's back.”
Kara jumped up and joins the throng of guests stampeding out of the dining room. Richard turned and yelled to her.
“Who's back?”
No answer.
He sat alone. Even the bartender was gone.

***

\tAs Richard made his way back to his room he imagined that he heard whispers in the corridor. He didn't know what to make of this place. All he was certain of was that he was going to grab his bag and get out of here. He could ride through the night with the bit of sleep he'd gotten earlier.
\tAs he passed the rooms of the other guests he heard shuffling coming from behind their doors. He could even see the light through the peep holes being blocked by a few nosy watchers. This is weird.
\tHe got his key ready to unlock his room - it was an actual brass key, not one of the modern electronic cards - but the door was already unlocked. He opened the door slowly and crept in, not that it mattered; Kara was sitting on his bed looking at the door. She looked worried.
\t“Why are you here, Kara?” Richard asked, closing the door behind him.
\t“There are some things you need to understand, Richard.”
\tHe walked past her and started gathering his things. “The only thing I understand is that I'm leaving. This place doesn't feel right.”
\tShe looked at him. The fear in her eyes held his gaze. “This place isn't right. That's what you need to understand.”
\t“What do you mean it's not right?” He placed his repacked bag on the bed and sat in the room's easy chair. “What's going on, Kara?”
\tShe brought her legs up under herself and turned to face him. “You remember when I asked you what brought you here?”
\tRichard winced. He was trying to forget why he was here. “Yeah,” he said. “I remember.”
\tShe looked down at her hands, which she was wringing in her lap, then back up at him. “I murdered my boyfriend in nineteen ninety four, Richard. That's why I'm here.”
\tRichard was more confused than shocked. “Kara, that's not possible. You would have been a baby in ninety four.” He was getting a headache. Actually, he'd had the headache since the previous day, but it was coming on in full force. “What's really going on?”
\t“Do you think it was weird that everyone was dressed from different eras?” She asked.
\t“Sure, but that could mean tons of different things.”
\t“But it only actually means one thing Richard.” She leaned in closer to him. “We're all here because we ran. I ran. I would have probably gotten off with self-defense or manslaughter. He was abusive, and he had just finished beating the shit out of me, but after I killed him, I ran instead of facing what would come.
“I needed sleep. I'd been driving for almost twenty hours by the time I saw this hotel, and I figured I was far enough away, and it was remote enough, for me to be safe for a day. Abigail rented me a room and I slept the day away.” Kara pulled her legs to her chest and shivered. “That night, she came for me for the first time.”
The color had drained from Kara's face. She really believes this, Richard thought. “Who came for you? Abigail, from the front counter? What did she do?”
Tears were sliding down Kara's cheeks now. Is this real? Richard asked himself. Or am I just starting to go crazy?
“She made me do it again.” Kara finally said.
“Made you do what again?”
“She made me kill him again,” she said, burying her face into her hands.
Richard knelt down in front of her and grabbed her hands from her face.
“Kara, that's not possible. Maybe you dreamt it. Hell, maybe I'm dreaming this right now, but what you're saying is impossible. You can't kill someone again.”
The look she gave him made him feel like he was the child and she was the adult. “In this place you can.”
As crazy as it sounded, a part of him believed her. He knew that something was strange here. Hadn't he just been ready to flee into the night? He rocked up on his heels and sat back down in the chair. When he looked up she was staring at him again.
“What did you do, Richard?”
Silence.
“What brought you here?”
Richard's face contorted in anguish and the sobs came before the words.
“I killed my wife and her lover,” he said, choking over his words. He composed himself and continued. “I walked in on them. I took a half day at work yesterday to run some errands, and I had to stop by the house to get the paperwork I needed.” He choked back the lump threatening to rise again. “Nineteen years. We were married for nineteen years. How many others did she fuck during that time? I was enraged, but I could have left it alone if I hadn't walked in while she was having an orgasm.”
Richard broke. He couldn't contain the sobs any longer. Kara grabbed his hand and watched as his world finally came crashing down. His wails exploded throughout the room, and he doubled over in pain.
Eventually his sobs turned to whimpers and he looked at her through blurry eyes.
“What happens now?” He asked. “Do you call the cops while I wait to be hauled off?”
“You still don't get it, do you?” She looked at the clock and stood up. “This place is our punishment, Richard. The quicker you come to realize that, the easier it will be for you.”
“You're leaving?” Richard asked.
“I have to.” Was that sorrow in her eyes? “As selfish as it is, I get a guaranteed reprieve for the night because you're here.”
Reprieve? “A reprieve from what?”
“From her,” she said, and then she left.

***
Richard waited for a few minutes after Kara left before he grabbed his bag and left the room. Only the runner lights were on in the hallway now, emitting a sickly yellowish glow. From the top of the stairway Richard could see that the bottom floor was dark.
\tHe heard a faint scraping sound behind him, like a fingernail being dragged along wallpaper. He whirled around and peered into the shadows. No one was there. You're tired and you're stressed. Just calm down and get out of here. He headed down the stairs, careful not to make noise with his footfalls.
\tAs he reached the landing for the second floor something rustled to his left. Coming up the hallway was an elderly lady. She had to be in her late seventies. Her eyes were fixed on Richard.
\t“Hello, dear,” she said as she got closer to him.
\t“Hello, ma'am,” he answered. “You're up awful late.”
\tShe smiled at him and propped herself up with the railing of the staircase. “Oh, I know, but it's not often we're given an off night, so I thought I'd take advantage of it.” She looked at Richards bag, and her grin widened. “Now, where do you think you're going?”
\tThat was a weird question. Not “where are you going?” but “where do you think you're going?”
\t“I'm leaving. I've got to be somewhere by a certain time tomorrow,” he lied.
\tThe old woman nodded as if accepting what he said. “You know, I killed my own son.”
\t“Ex-excuse me,” Richard stammered.
\t“Yes I did. I split his head right open with a frying pan. Oh, don't look so incredulous. The bastard deserved it. I'd seen him beat his wife one too many times, and on this occasion he went after his daughter too. Under my own roof.” Her eyes glazed over; she was far away. “He really was a good person at one time,” she said in a low voice.
\tHer lucidity returned and she smiled at Richard again. “Anyhow, I've killed him three hundred and forty eight times now, and you wanna know a secret?” Her eyes grew wide as she thought of her secret. Richard didn't respond. “I actually think I'm starting to enjoy it.”
The old woman broke into a fit of cackling laughter that doubled her over. Richard turned and bounded down the last flight of stairs, heedless of the noise. He found the door knob in the dark and threw the door open.

***

\tHe was standing in his bedroom room back home. Sunlight shined off of the pale gray walls through the sliding door that led to their back yard. Trisha was naked on the bed. Her legs were wrapped in silver sheets and she was propped up on her elbow, smiling toward the bathroom door.
\tShe spoke, but Richard could not hear her. He couldn't hear anything coming from that direction at all. When Trisha moved, he didn't hear the sheets rustle. He didn't hear the bathroom door open as a man stepped out of it.
\t“What's going on, Trish?” Richard asked. She didn't acknowledge him. Didn't even flinch. He tried to step forward, but he couldn't move, at least not in that direction. He could move, but if he tried to move toward them, he became paralyzed.
\t“Trish!” He screamed.
\tNothing again.
\tTrish laid back on the bed again and the man straddled her. Richard refused to watch this. He closed his eyes, but as soon as they were closed they began to burn. His eyelids were hot coals, and his only relief was keep them up.
\tWhat's going on? Oh God, Kara was right.
\t“You will watch this, Richard,” a voice whispered into his ear. He whirled around to see who it was and the room shifted with him. Trisha and his lover were still fucking four feet in front of him, but Abigail was there now too, her cheek pressed to his as she continued to whisper.
\t“What's it like to see her enjoy him so much?” She said. “To see the wife you've loved for two decades defiling your marriage bed. And not for the first time, I can tell you that.” The corner of her lips brushed up his cheek as she smiled.
\t“Please,” His words were strained. His face was contorted in grief. “Make it stop.”
\tAbigail pulled back to look at him. Here hazel eyes were pools of dark joy. “I can't make it stop, Richard.” She placed something cold in his hands. “Only you can.”
\tShe smiled and walked past him. He tried to call out to her, but his throat clenched violently when he did. He realized he could hear Trisha and her lover in the throws of passion, and he looked down to see what Abigail had given him. It was a kitchen knife. He dropped it with a start.
\tAt the sound of the knife clattering to the ground Trisha looked up, directly into Richard's eyes, and smiled. Can she see me? He still couldn't move toward her, and he could no longer hear them. Trisha kept smiling at him, but closed her eyes. She was nearing orgasm.
\t“What are you doing?” Richard yelled, but she did not respond.
\tHe'd been able to hear them with the knife, perhaps it was the key. He bent down and grabbed it again, and the sound returned.
\t“What are you doing, Trish?” He asked, and stepped forward. He froze as soon as he moved, but it was out of shock this time, not inability.
\tTrisha answered him, her eyes still closed and ecstasy still on her face. “I'm getting what you could never give me?”
\tHer lover's pace quickened and she wrapped her legs around him, pulling him in deeper. Richard's stomach clenched, and he struggled to keep down the bile that was rising in his throat.
\t“Why are you doing this?” He sputtered.
\t“Quiet, Richard,” she said with gasping breaths. “I'm about to come.”
\tDizziness rolled over him. Part of him felt as if this wasn't real, that it was just a dream, yet another part of him felt that it was familiar, as if he'd lived it before. He couldn't think. Was this a dream? Had he walked in on his wife fucking another man?
\tTrisha's cry of release snapped him out of his daze, and the rage that he'd learn to keep at bay since he was a teenager finally released. He stepped forward, behind Trisha's lover, and slit the man's throat. Blood spilled onto Trisha's naked body, still writhing in climax. Richard pushed the man off of her and stood above her with the knife raised.
\tNo. He couldn't. This was his wife. He lowered the knife and she opened her eyes.
\t“What's the matter, Richard? Not man enough?”
\t“Why are you doing this to me?” He cried, stepping back from the bed.
\tShe looked at the blood that covered her, and then to the body of her lover. “Good thing I was done with him,” she said, and stood. She walked toward Richard. Her face was splattered with blood, but she seemed to care as little about that as she did the blood on her body.
\tHe fell to his knees weeping. “Please, just kill me now.”
\t“Oh, Richard,” she said, tracing a finger along his jawline. “I'm not going to kill you. You're going to kill me.” She knelt down in front of him, and he looked up at her. He didn't speak.
\t“It'll make all of this go away, Richard. Put that knife through my heart and go back to your life.”
\tRichard shook his head. “No, Trish. I'm not going to kill you. I can't kill you.” He looked down in resignation.
\tShe laughed. “You can't kill me? God, you always were an idiot. You think this is the first time I've done this, Richard? Do you really think that I haven't brought other men into our bed? That I haven't pleasured them, and been pleasured by them? How naive.”
\tRichard's grip tightened on the hilt of the knife, though not even he was aware of it.
\t“I've fucked more men than years we've been married. You know why your brother warned you that I was a slut. You know why he begged you not to marry me? Look at me when I tell you this,” she screamed that last part.
\tRichard's head snapped up and he met her eyes.
\t“Dennis warned you about me because he fucked me. He bent me over your parent's kitchen table the Christmas before we got married, Richard, and he had his way with me.”
\tNow Richard was cognizant of his grip on the knife. His muscles were trembling as he knelt there, a dense being of rage.
\tTrisha leaned in and put her lips near his ear. “We've done it every holiday since,” she whispered.
\tRichard's bellow echoed across the room as he brought the knife up and plunged it into the side of her neck. He tried to call her a bitch, to tell her how much he hated her, but the words only came out in unintelligible grunts of loathing. He pulled the knife free and plunged it in again...and again...and again.
\tSweat poured down Richard's face as he stood up, streaking the blood that covered it. He looked down at the body of his wife and could contain it no more. He turned to the side and vomited.

***

\tRichard sprung out of sleep. The room was dark and he was drenched with sweat. Just a dream, he thought, but where am I? He let his eyes adjust to the room and it all came back to him. He was in a hotel room. He was on the run, and he really had killed his wife the day before. Thought not like in the dream, he thought. He could still taste vomit in his throat, and he wanted to throw up again. He took a few deep breaths and composed himself.
\tHe was leaving, there was no question about that. Whether it was this place that gave him the dream or not, he had to get out of here. Had to keep running. He quickly dressed and grabbed his bag.
\tOutside of his room, away from fully drawn curtains, he could see that dawn was beginning to break. He hurried down the stairs intent on simply leaving his key on the customer service counter, but Abigail was already there.
\t“Good morning, Mr. Hensley,” she said. “I trust you slept well.” Was her smile a knowing one or simple courtesy?
\t“I slept fine,” he lied. “I'm just in a hurry. I woke up late and have a meeting to make.” He handed her the key. She took it and twirled it on her finger.
\t“Of course. Did you need a receipt?”
\t“No thank you,” Richard said, and turned and opened the hotel door.
\tStepping out, he bumped right into Abigail, who was now standing in his way.
\t“Wha-? How?” What was going on? This was impossible.
\tAbigail stepped forward, and he stepped back - back into the hotel. “You can't leave, Mr. Hensley.” She said, closing the door with a smile.
\t“You can never leave.”

 

Thanks for the feedback. I plan to either submit it to a few mags, or I will bundle it with two other short stories and self-publish on the kindle and nook stores. I haven't decided yet.