Chapter 1- The Message
The first message arrived at 2:13 a.m.
Maya almost ignored it.
She was sitting behind the reception desk of the Bellmore Hotel, scrolling through her phone while rain tapped softly against the lobby windows.
Night shifts were always quiet.
Painfully quiet.
Her computer chimed.
ROOM 307: PLEASE HELP ME.
Maya stared at the screen.
“Very funny.”
Guests could message reception through the hotel’s tablet system. Most requests were normal.
Extra towels.
More pillows.
Someone complaining that the air conditioner was too loud.
But “please help me” wasn’t normal.
Maya clicked the room number.
307.
She frowned.
The room showed red.
Unavailable.
She refreshed the page.
Still red.
“That’s weird.”
Maybe someone had accidentally assigned the wrong room.
She opened the reservation system and searched the third floor.
301 — occupied.
302 — vacant.
303 — occupied.
304 — vacant.
305 — occupied.
306 — vacant.
307 — OUT OF SERVICE.
Maya leaned closer to the monitor.
Room 307 had been closed since before she started working at the Bellmore.
She didn’t know why.
Whenever she’d asked about it, her manager gave the same answer.
“Plumbing problems.”
Three years of plumbing problems seemed ridiculous, but Maya had stopped asking.
The computer chimed again.
ROOM 307: PLEASE DON’T CALL ANYONE.
Maya stopped breathing for a second.
She typed back.
RECEPTION: Who is this?
Three dots appeared.
Someone was typing.
Then they disappeared.
Maya waited.
Nothing.
She looked toward the elevator.
The numbers above its doors glowed softly.
1.
The elevator hadn’t moved.
She typed again.
RECEPTION: Are you in danger?
This time, the reply came immediately.
ROOM 307: YES.
Maya reached for the hotel phone.
She should call her manager.
Or the police.
Probably both.
Before she could lift the receiver, another message appeared.
ROOM 307: DON’T CALL HIM.
Maya’s hand froze.
RECEPTION: Who?
Three dots.
A response appeared.
ROOM 307: THE MAN AT THE FRONT DESK.
Maya slowly looked around the lobby.
Empty chairs.
An abandoned luggage cart.
The dark hallway leading toward the staff room.
There was nobody at the front desk.
Except her.
Her fingers hovered above the keyboard.
RECEPTION: I’m the only person here.
For nearly thirty seconds, nothing happened.
Then:
ROOM 307: NO YOU’RE NOT.
A cold feeling crawled across Maya’s skin.
She stood up.
“Hello?”
Her voice echoed through the lobby.
No answer.
She checked beneath the desk.
Ridiculous.
Nobody.
She looked toward the hallway behind reception.
The staff room door was slightly open.
She was almost certain she’d closed it earlier.
Almost.
Maya picked up the flashlight beneath the desk.
The computer chimed again.
She turned back.
ROOM 307: DON’T TURN AROUND.
Maya’s stomach dropped.
For several seconds, she didn’t move.
The lobby suddenly seemed silent.
Even the rain felt distant.
Then she heard it.
A soft sound behind her.
Breathing.
Maya tightened her grip around the flashlight.
Her phone began vibrating in her pocket.
She pulled it out without turning around.
Unknown Number.
One new text message.
She opened it.
A photograph loaded.
It showed Maya sitting behind the reception desk.
The picture had been taken less than a minute ago.
From the hallway behind her.
Underneath it were four words.
I TOLD YOU NOT TO TURN AROUND.
