“Of course,” I snorted to myself.
That was some kind of sick irony. If horror movies and haunting documentaries taught me anything, it was that nothing good ever happened between 3 and 4 am, not that I necessarily believed in things like that. However, it wouldn’t hurt to turn on the light. If there were some horrible things waiting to devour me, I’d prefer to see them coming.
I reached out, clicked on the lamp next to the bed, and waited for my eyes to adjust.
Nothing seemed out of the ordinary at first.
The bathroom door was open, just as I left it. The bed, dresser, and other furniture all looked undisturbed. Even my keys were sitting on the vanity in the same position I’d tossed them. On the surface, everything was normal.
But underneath, there were little things. Decaying details that I didn’t remember seeing before.
Instead of draping out, the curtains seemed to be sagging. The rich velvet material was browned and stiff at the folds, while the brocade trim curled up at the ends. Up near the ceiling, the wallpaper had faded and cracked, making the fleur-de-lis pattern bleed down the wall. In the shadows, they almost looked like tiny faces screaming.
And then there was the air. It was thicker, and a faint, mildewy scent had replaced the dried-out rose aroma. Everybreath I took felt damp. It was awful. I almost choked on the flavor of stale water.
Had the room always been like this, and I was too tired to see it?
No. At the very least, I would’ve noticed those curtains. If death could touch material, then that cloth had been carried around by the Reaper himself. Maybe the storm got in? Mind you, if that were true, then the floor and walls would be wet, which they weren’t.
Something wasn’t right.
The sound came again, sharp and muffled through the wall to my left.
It was definitely coming from inside. More specifically, the room next to mine.
Should I be worried, or was I overreacting? It could be something completely innocent. Perhaps whoever was in there had too much to drink, or they were into some rough,kinky stuff. In the three years I’d been on the run from my parents, I’d seen some weird shit.
“Please, no,” a woman yelled, followed by a thud so hard the picture hanging on the wall bounced.
My stomach knotted. That didn’t sound like rough sex. It sounded like someone was shoved into the wall.
A scream tore through the air, followed by a man’s voice blaring out something I couldn’t make out. Then a panicked shriek, another thud, and… silence.
My throat tightened as I waited for another sound—a bang or scream, even a whisper would do. Anything that showed signs of life.
I got what I asked for in the form of a low rumbled groan followed by a lighter banging as if something was knocking in the other room.
Not sure if I should be scared or not, I rose to my knees and pressed my ear to the wall.
Someone with a deep voice was talking. I could make out a few words. Cry, pretty, and blood. If that wasn’t enough to make me jump off the bed, then the scream that tore through the air sure was.
I jumped onto the floor and backed away from the wall.
Nope. I was so out of here—storm or not.
Not caring about getting dressed, I turned to grab my coat and froze when the thudding turned rhythmic.
Two beats, pause, then two more.
Bump, bump…
Bump, bump…
They were soft, like the beat of a heart, but only because the storm screamed outside. And even that wasn’t loud enough to cover the noise.
That’s when I heard it.
A laugh so creepy it chilled my bones.
