Alex, still riding the wave of excitement, began to explore the room with a childlike curiosity. The opulence of the space was a stark contrast to the modest accommodations he and Arlo had next door. "Pretty luxurious compared to our room," he muttered under his breath, admiring the plush furnishings, the rich mahogany wood of the furniture, and the soft, ambient lighting that bathed the room in a warm, golden glow.
His initial excitement, however, was abruptly shattered. As he approached the bed, something caught his eye—a dark, ominous stain marring the otherwise pristine white blanket. He leaned in closer, his breath catching in his throat as the realization hit him. It was blood.
The air in the room seemed to thicken, growing heavy with an almost tangible dread. Alex's heart pounded wildly as he peeled back the blanket, revealing a sight that made his stomach churn. The man, who he had assumed was merely passed out, was far from asleep. His abdomen was grotesquely torn open, the flesh ragged and raw, as if savaged by the teeth of a wild animal. The marks were jagged, tooth-shaped, resembling the deadly bite of a lion. Blood pooled around the gaping wound, soaking into the sheets.
"Huff... Huff..." Alex's breaths came in ragged gasps, his chest tightening as panic set in. The alcohol-induced haze lifted, replaced by a cold, sobering fear.
Desperation clawed at him as he fumbled for his phone, his fingers trembling uncontrollably. He dialed the police, his mind racing, but before he could complete the call, a cold, menacing presence made itself known.
The woman stood before him, her silhouette blocking the only exit. Her eyes, once inviting, now held a predatory glint.
"Ooooohhhh... Leaving so soon?" Her voice was sweet, almost mocking. "I thought we were just about to have some fun."
Alex stumbled backward, his legs barely supporting him as the weight of the situation bore down on him. "Who... who are you?" he stammered, his voice trembling with terror.
The woman advanced slowly, her hips swaying seductively with each step. Her voice dripped with a dangerous allure. "Why the fear, honey? I promise... I'll take you to the moooon."
There was something in her tone, something dark and hypnotic, that sent icy shivers down Alex's spine. As she knelt in front of him, her hand reached out to caress his face. The touch was cold, her fingers trailing down his cheek toward his chest, inching closer to his heart.
Instinct took over, and Alex slapped her hand away, his voice rising in a panicked shout.
"Stay away from me, you bit*h!"
His words seemed to have no effect. The woman merely smiled, a twisted, sinister grin that hinted at the horrors yet to come. In a blind panic, Alex turned and bolted for the door, his only thought to escape. But as he reached for the handle, the lights in the room flickered out with a loud click, plunging the room into darkness.
The darkness was suffocating, wrapping around him like a shroud. In the pitch black, Alex felt something—something heavy and cold—pressing against his chest. He looked down, his eyes straining to see in the gloom. A sickening realization dawned on him as he saw it: a grotesque, tongue-like appendage, slick and covered in tiny, sharp teeth, had pierced through his chest, wrapping around his heart. He could feel it, the terrifying sensation of his heart still beating, each pulse sending waves of pain through his body.
"Thump, thump, thump."
The sound of his heart echoed in his ears, each beat slower and more labored than the last. The pain was excruciating, a searing, burning sensation that consumed him. As the creature's grip tightened, the rhythm of his heart faltered, the once steady beats growing faint and erratic.
"Thump... thump... thump..."
The world around him began to fade, the darkness closing in. His strength waned, his vision dimming as the life drained from his body. In his final moments, Alex's hand reached out desperately toward the door, his fingers brushing against the cold wood.
"Thump..."
The last beat of his heart was a mere whisper, and with it, his hand fell limp, inches away from freedom.
The woman's eyes glowed in the dark, a sickly greenish-yellow, like the eyes of a snake. They gleamed with an unnatural light, reflecting the moonlight that filtered through the fluttering curtains. The wind howled through the open windows, making the light fabric dance, casting eerie, shifting shadows across the now still room.
Next door, Arlo was pacing back and forth, oblivious to the horror that had just unfolded. The walls were thick, designed to block out sound, and they did their job well. He couldn't hear anything—no screams, no struggle—just the steady thrum of his own thoughts. Something gnawed at him, a feeling that something was off, but he brushed it aside, convincing himself that Alex was fine, that maybe he had just gotten lucky and moved on to another room.
Deciding to peek out of the balcony, Arlo leaned over, expecting to see Alex basking in the afterglow of success. But the room next door was eerily quiet, the only figure visible being the man lying on the bed, his body concealing the lifeless form of his friend.
Satisfied, Arlo shrugged and headed back inside, flopping onto his bed. The unease still lingered, but sleep quickly overtook him, pulling him into a restless slumber.
The next morning, the sound of voices in the corridor jolted him awake. The chatter was frantic, the tone urgent. Annoyed by the disruption, Arlo groggily opened his door to find the hallway crowded with people, all gathered around the room next door. "What the heck? All this ruckus so early in the morning," he muttered irritably.
Unable to see past the throng, Arlo grabbed the arm of a man standing nearby. "What happened? Why are all of you gathered here?"
The man turned to him, his face pale with shock. "Two people were found dead in the room next door."
The words hit Arlo like a sledgehammer, the blood draining from his face. He shoved his way through the crowd, his heart racing with a dread that threatened to consume him. As he reached the doorway, the sight that greeted him made his knees buckle.
There, lying at the entrance, was Arlo's body. His back was torn open, the wound jagged and brutal, as if something had ripped through him with savage force. Blood pooled beneath him, the dark red stark against the white of the hallway tiles.
"BAARRRFFFF... BLAACCH..." Arlo doubled over, retching uncontrollably as the reality of what he was seeing set in. The bile rose in his throat, his stomach twisting with horror and revulsion. He struggled to regain his composure, but the image of his friend's mutilated body was seared into his mind.
As he wiped his mouth, still trembling, a hand grabbed his left shoulder from behind. The touch was firm, unyielding, sending a jolt of fear straight through him.
To be continued...