Sarah checked into a modest hotel called Melrose Villa. It wasn't extravagant by any means, but it was decent. The rooms were small yet tidy, the beds neatly made, the water supply steady and clean. Even the food, though inexpensive, was surprisingly good.
At the reception, a young woman, no older than twenty-two, with an oddly cheerful demeanor for the late hour, handed her a key.
"Room 102," she said with a bright smile. "Second floor, right wing."
"Thank you," Sarah replied quietly before heading off.
When she stepped into the room, she paused.
It was small.
Simple.
Clean.
A faint, pleasant scent lingered in the air, something subtle, calming. Even the bed, though narrow, looked inviting.
For some reason, it felt… peaceful.
She dropped her black Chanel handbag onto the bed, the same one Martin had bought her three years ago for her birthday, a gift that now felt like a distant, hollow memory.
Her body gave in.
She collapsed onto the mattress, her eyes heavy with exhaustion, grief, and emotional overload.
She was too tired to bathe.
Too drained to think.
And she had no change of clothes anyway, everything she owned was still in Martin's apartment.
I'll rest today… and tomorrow, she thought faintly. Then I'll figure out what to do next.
Within seconds, sleep claimed her.
****
A creaking sound pulled her back.
Faint.
Distant.
It seemed to come from the bathroom.
Sarah frowned in her half-conscious state. For a moment, she thought she was dreaming and almost ignored it.
Then it came again.
Louder this time.
Her eyes snapped open.
She sat up abruptly, her heart racing as she scanned the room.
Something felt… wrong.
The air had changed.
A strange, suffocating sensation crept over her skin.
She wasn't alone.
Sarah had no idea how long she had been asleep. Her body still felt heavy, her mind sluggish. She was still dressed in the same clothes she had worn earlier that evening, too exhausted to change, too broken to care.
Another sound came.
A hurried movement.
Again, from the bathroom.
This time, she stood up.
Slowly.
Carefully.
She listened.
Silence.
Her breath grew shallow as she stepped toward the bathroom door.
Maybe it's nothing… she tried to convince herself.
Pushing the door open, she looked inside.
Nothing.
The white tiles gleamed under the light. The sink, the toilet, the mirror, everything was exactly as it should be.
Empty, still, normal.
And yet
A sudden chill spread through her body, raising goosebumps along her skin. It felt like a warning. Like something unseen was watching her.
She stepped back out and shut the door gently.
Then she turned and froze.
A man stood beside her bed.
Massive.
Dressed entirely in black.
For a second, her brain refused to process what she was seeing.
Her blood ran cold.
Her lips trembled.
Her legs refused to move.
This… this can't be real…
Hadn't her life fallen apart enough in the last twenty-four hours?
Was this another nightmare?
The man moved,Just a step
But it was enough.
Sarah's survival instinct snapped awake.
She spun around to run
Only to slam face-to-face into another figure.
Tall, Dressed in black, Masked.
Hovering over her like something inhuman.
A choked gasp escaped her throat.
She turned again
And her heart nearly stopped.
There were more.
Three.
The first man had been joined by another, and now a third stood by the door, completely blocking the only exit.
She was trapped.
"Who are you?" she demanded, her voice shaking despite her effort to stay composed. "How did you get into my room? What do you want from me?"
Silence.
They didn't move, didn't speak, didn't react.
They stood like statues.
The man by the door tilted his head slightly, gesturing toward the largest of them, the one closest to her.
When he finally spoke, his voice was rough and croaky.
"We were warned not to talk to her."
A chill ran down Sarah's spine.
"Warned?" she pressed, desperation creeping into her tone. "Who warned you? Who sent you?"
Her heart pounded violently.
One name echoed in her mind.
Martin.
"No…" she whispered to herself, shaking her head faintly. "It can't be him. He didn't mean it like that… He just meant he would break up with me… not..."
But deep down, she already knew the truth.
Before she could react, they moved.
Fast, Too fast.
In seconds, they closed the distance between them.
Their masked faces gave nothing away, yet she could feel their cold, calculated intent pressing down on her.
A pair of hands, heavy, unyielding, like iron, clamped onto her shoulders from behind, pinning her in place.
Her breath hitched.
"Wha.."
She didn't finish the word.
A strip of cloth was forced over her mouth, binding it tightly.
Before she could struggle, a black veil was pulled over her head, plunging her into darkness.
Her vision vanished.
Her world shrank to nothing.
They secured the fabric firmly around her neck, not enough to choke her, but enough to ensure she couldn't break free.
Sarah tried to scream.
Tried to fight.
But no sound came out.
And no one was coming to save her.