I don’t remember much of that night, we had to move all of the other guests to separate rooms and the police did a full examination of room 33. Alexaveir took over a lot of the talking, I was too shaken up to get any comprehensible words out. The police were there until night, eventually, they sat the two of us down and explained that the couple had left a suicide note. They were tired of watching each other wither away and wanted to preserve what they had, their solution to this was to kill each other. The police suspected they had been dead for 2 days. I did manage to tell them of the bangs we heard a couple of days prior. The police said it was most likely the gunshots.
After the bodies had been removed the police sent in a team to clean the room. They suggested that Alex and I got some rest. That we did, it was strange, that night we went about our lives as normal, huddled up on the couch watching horror movies with Paris between our feet. Despite our attempts at normalcy, there was an underlying uneasiness that ran deeper than a mediocre Stephen King movie. We crawled into bed not saying a word to each other. I hardly slept.
At some point, I gave up on resting and went into the kitchen for a glass of water. I clicked on the tv, and the credit screen of the movie Cujo illuminated the room. I fiddled around with the remote before finally opening Netflix, I clicked through the channels for a bit before a feeling washed over me. Like I was being watched. I reluctantly turned to look behind. I must have jumped, or screamed, or something because as soon as I saw him, he was gone. At first, I thought he was sleepwalking again, but his eyes were wide open. Shining a deep green even in the dark, after I spotted Alex, he quickly shuffled back behind the door with unusual speed. Something in me told me not to go after him, that it was late and my eyes were playing tricks on me.
The next morning, the science team checked out early, I couldn’t blame them for doing so. I held off on cleaning their room, I figured I could assign it to another employee, or just hold it off. With the holiday season coming up we wouldn’t get any customers, and almost all of the employees took at least 3 days off. Alexaveir and I were to stay at the hotel over the holiday, neither of us were on exactly good terms with our family. Instead, I decided to clear out some of the clutter in the storage closets. It was filled to the brim with soaps, sheets, pillows, spare remotes, light bulbs, basically anything you could think of. While I was testing the hundreds of pens for dried ink, Axel walked past with the cleaning cart.
“You didn’t mark room 34 as being cleaned,” he explained as he walked past.
“I was holding it off,” I responded.
“Figures.”
When Alex spoke the ink of my pen started bubbling from the tip. The pen rattled as the black liquid exploded all over me and the carpet, “Shit.” I frantically wiped my hands with the nearest cloth and dabbed the ink from the carpet. My attempts came out in failure, the ink had already sunk into the carpet and wasn’t budging. I snarled more profanity under my breath once I realized there was nothing I could do. By the time I finished swatching and sorting the pens Alex had finished cleaning room 34. He stared at me for a moment when he brought the cart back into the storage lounge. I continued, throwing out any sheets or blankets with stains on them, and threw out all of the soap with the old packaging on it.
By the time I was done the closet could fit a person perfectly inside, when prior you would have been lucky to store another blanket in there. Next on my list of things to get done was the electrical closet. It was on the right-wing of the hotel and contained the documents for the electronics as well as the heating and cooling system for the lounges. It was a walk-in closet, around the size of a handicap bathroom stall, with one window and just enough space to walk between the shelves of cords and instruction manuals.
I gazed at how dusty everything was and got to work. Around halfway through detangling a knot of spare wires I noticed something around the door. Two beady green eyes peeked at me through the hinges. Uniform breathing echoed through the room as I stared back at Alex. Just the thought of that sound sends a chill down my back. I wasn’t scared, more so confused. When I called his name he slumped back around the corner without saying a word. I called for him, to no avail. Later that night, I passively mentioned it to him, and he completely blew me over. It almost made me mad how nonchalant he was, never confirming or denying if or why he did it. My anger wasn’t that of burning rage, but more of confused dismay. I like to think I’m not easily scared, but I can’t deny I was on edge after that. I caught Alex staring at me a few times after that, he always watched me while hidden, behind a door or hallway. He would watch me for god knows how long until I saw him. After our eyes met he would scurry away. I started feeling more paranoid, I felt like I was always being watched.
I also noticed Axel stopped coming to bed, he had always been a night owl, and frankly, I didn’t care how late he was up as long as he was healthy. I was used to going off to bed alone and waking up with Alex snuggled next to me fast asleep, as the days went on I continuously woke up alone, Axel would always be sitting at his desk hovering over his painting. Interestingly enough, he didn’t appear to be working, his brushes and hands were always clean. His eyes were blank and bloodshot as he glared at his work, the only thing keeping me from thinking he had turned to stone was the stubble rising and falling from his breathing.
Initially, I thought he had fallen back into a depressive episode, in the past, he had his rough spots. Still, I thought he had gotten better, yet here he was hovering over an unfinished painting day and night, neglecting his work, his relationships, his life. I tried to accommodate Alexavier, I took on his load of work- not like he would have done it in that state- and did my best to keep him company, I even managed to get him into bed at a reasonable hour a few times. But every time I would always wake up and find him in the studio. This pattern repeated for days, I would wake up alone, find Axel in the studio, send him to bed, get off to work, come home to Axel awake, and steer him to bed only to wake up alone the next morning.
One brisk morning, I woke up alone, again. I walked past the studio and muttered a “good morning,” a habit I had picked up on. Only this time, Alex didn’t answer, normally he would mutter a “morning” or just groan. When I peered inside, Alex’s chair sat vacated, alarm bells went off in my head. I was so used to Axel being locked up inside I forgot about his staring. The dreadful sensation of being watched washed over me, the hair on my neck spiked and my legs itched to move, to move away from the kitchen, to lock myself in the studio where I knew I would be alone. The primal fear and curiosity drove me mad until I hesitantly turned around. Nothing. I almost laughed, I was like a scared child watching his first horror movie. Nothing was there to watch or attack me, I was completely alone. For some people that might have been worse, but I was never given a reason to fear solitude. I continued on, going over to the fridge and retrieving a glass of water. There was work to do outside today, the gutters on the roof desperately needed cleaning, and some of the paint needed to be touched up. A storm was scheduled to hit the next day so it needed to be tended to today. I went to retrieve my coat from the closet and stopped.
That same itching primal fear took me over again, I peered through the crack in the door and instantly my previous optimism vanished. In the corner, huddled behind my jacket shined a deep green. A thin line of light shone into the closet illuminating his face. His eyes were pealing red. Dark circles clung to his skin and cheeks of solid bone framed his face, and worst of all his lips curved into a devilish smile. Startled, I screamed, before exploding into a yelling fit. Alex slumped out of the closet, he brushed past me, deliberately knocking into my shoulder. He felt light, lighter than normal at least. I whipped around and watched him walk, or rather maneuver back into the studio. He was wearing a loose-fit black t-shirt, from behind the neckline of the shirt revealed his upper shoulder blades, his spine ran straight down his back in an awful boney ridge.
I thought back to his face, his skin clung to his skull in a horrid manner, as if a child was tasked with stapling skin back onto somebody’s bones. It saddened me, whenever I looked at Alex I couldn’t help but picture one of those starving children’s magazines. Before he was already a frail person, but now he was truly nothing but skin and bones. I made a vow then and there that I would sit him down and figure out what was going on, something I’d refrained from doing because of his past depressive episodes. Axel never wanted me to go out of my way to help him, of course, I still did, but Alex appreciated me simply having open arms and ears rather than physical assistance.
I called out once more before I left to attend to the building, “Axel, I’m going to work on the building, come get me if you need anything… Okay?”
“Im worried about you,” I added
Silence.
“I love you, you know that right?”
Some instinct in me told me to tell him I loved him, I halfheartedly expected him to answer with an “I love you too”, even a shallow declaration would have brought me some comfort. I waited for a few seconds before closing the door, I subconsciously slammed it, I wasn’t sure what was going on with Alex, but it was starting to take its toll on me as well. I bit at my lip down the halls, I was mad. Mad at myself and Alex. Mad at the elderly couple and my family. I had to unclench my fists every time I opened a door. I’ll spare the details of painting and cleaning the gutters, but I’ll say that simmering in my anger for a few hours didn’t do me any good. When I got home there was nothing that I wanted more than to curl into bed with Alex and pretend the word disappeared. When I pushed the front door open it let out a god-awful squeaking sound. I grit my teeth and shakily exhaled from my nose, when I closed the door the same ratchet sound filled the air.
I stood there for a minute opening and closing the door, periodically checking the hinges. By the fourth round of squeaking, I started bitterly spewing curses at the inanimate object. I don’t know how long I stayed like that, desperately trying to fix the door without tools, I must have looked like a total idiot. Nevertheless, something pulled me away from the door. I walked over to the countertop where Paris was sitting. I ran my fingers through her fur and tickled her chin. Something about her calmed me down. Only then did I detect the other noise in the room, coming from the bathroom I could hear the low rambling of Alex. The bathroom door was open, so I was able to see inside. He was leaning over the sink, in his reflection, I saw his unreadable expression. He looked like a hell-born devil, a smile dug into his hollow cheekbones, but his eyes were stiff and cold. His lips parted as he quietly muttered into his reflection, I couldn’t make out exactly what he was saying, but it scared me. The longer he continuously jabbered at the mirror the louder his inaudible words became. They rattled through my brain, lodging themselves permanently into my memory. I rammed my hands to my ears desperately trying to silence the sound, through the muffling of my hands I did make out one phrase.
“I love you.”
After the words sunk in, I removed my hands, I must have fallen to the ground because I had to look up to see Alex. Only now, he wasn’t looking into the mirror, he was staring directly at me. I desperately stared into his eyes, even from the distance they shined, before I knew it I was choking on my anxiety. The way Alex said it, I’d never heard him, or anyone, so maliciously say such tender words. This wasn’t the Alex I knew, this wasn’t the man I married, this was a near skeleton having a gibberish conversation with a mirror.
“What happened?” I managed to squeeze the words out.
Alex wore the same unreadable expression as he towered over me, “Nothing happened.”
I dared not call his bluff, at least not out loud. I shook my head and tried to rise from the ground, I stumbled a few times below my wobbling legs. Not once did Alexavier try to help me, he returned to his station at the mirror, once again filling the air with his terrible wheezing and rambling.
I took Paris into the bedroom that night and locked the door, it wasn’t like Alex was sleeping anyway, what purpose did it serve to have him in the room. The snowstorm started. For the first time in a long time, I hated the snow, I stood at the window in disgust as it came piling down in large heaps. There was nothing I could do to stop it and I despised it. I didn’t get much sleep that night, the wifi and power went out, so I was left alone with my thoughts. I thought a lot about Alex. I still couldn’t rationally figure out what was going on, but at that point, rationality was thrown out the window. That night, I realized that I wouldn’t be able to help him. He needed a doctor, a therapist, something. I thought maybe the sight of the bodies of the elderly couple traumatized him, or threw him into some sort of long-term PTSD episode. That night I made another vow to myself, come the end of the storm I would take Alex to the hospital. The closest one is 3 hours away. I’d take Paris and we would find some inn to stay at until Axel was healthy. I tried so desperately to romanticize the situation, deep down I knew how unrealistic my plan was, still, I tried to remain optimistic. If I was going to be stuck with Alex for the next few days, seriously contemplating what was wrong with him would only scare me.
After coming up with a “plan” my mind drifted to other matters, with the power out I have to check the pipes for bursts or leaks. When the power goes out in such a rural area it takes days for it to come back. We did have a sufficient amount of flashlights and candles, so it wasn’t completely unbearable, but I wasn’t exactly fond of the situation.
Somehow, I managed to drift off, I awoke the next morning to Paris scratching at the door. She wasn’t used to being locked in one area for long. I was hesitant to open the door, I didn’t know what I would find behind the plate of wood. I hushed Paris and remained in bed until my bladder called for release. I scooped up Paris and clicked the lock, opening the bedroom door. Alex, to my relief, wasn’t in the kitchen or living room, there was always the question if he was watching me, but I never felt uneasy, and Paris seemed fine. She jumped out of my arms and toddled to her food dish and started ravenously stuffing her face with kibbles.
Never in a million years did I think that cat food would seem appetizing, but watching Paris eat made me realize how hungry I was. I went to the bathroom before grabbing a yogurt from the fridge. I ate it while watching Paris, goosebumps had formed on my arms. Our section of the hotel was the coldest part of the building, its insulation was mediocre at best, and the heating system hardly reached it. With the power out I was unable to run the space heaters and as a result, it was freezing. After I finished my breakfast, I rubbed my hands together and went to change into something warmer. Before I did so, I went to check the studio. As I expected, Axel was hovering over his painting, his head was down on his desk and his breathing was relaxed. I shuddered at the sight of him, somehow he looked even more sickly. It did bring me some relief to see him rest. I silently tip-toed back to the bedroom, partly because I didn’t want to wake him, partly because I was scared of him.
I paced through the hotel halls holding a flashlight and a candle. I refrained from turning the flashlight on to preserve its battery life. I knew the hotel well enough to rely on the faint yellow glow from the candle. I planned to check the pipes for the major water sources first, the hot tub, the sweet rooms, our “apartment”, and the washing machine room. Apart from my “house”, most of these things were on the far right of the hotel. I planned to venture there before making my way through the regular halls. It was around a 6-8 minute walk to the right wing. All of the wings are long halls with separate smaller halls leading to staff-only sections.
The first room I checked was the washing machine room. I’ll spare the process of checking the pipes. Around halfway through my process, I noticed some rustling coming from the main hall. My heart sank, I was petrified, but I can’t deny that I was expecting something to happen. I was running off of an hour of sleep and panic, so my solution was to lay low until the sounds stopped. Of course, this let my imagination run wild with racing thoughts of paranoia. My heart skipped a beat every time I heard it, low gargling that was always followed by grasping. Sometimes the sound was accompanied by loud thumbs like somebody was running into a wall. My mind drifted back to the rambling I had witnessed. I replayed the wheezing and muttering in my mind, eventually the sounds overlapped until my subconscious was buzzing.
I clamped my hands over my ears trying to get it to stop, tears trickled down my face as I waited. I don’t know how long I sat like that, curled into a fetal position on the ground wailing like a toddler. Eventually, the sound stopped, I counted to 40 before actually removing my hands. Once I lowered them back to my sides another sound filled the air, this one was bearable, unsettling at worst. A hushed panting that would sometimes flow into a groan. I listened for a while but was unable to pinpoint where it was coming from. I gathered my thoughts before hesitantly grabbing my flashlight. The candle had fallen at the height of my panic and sat in a puff of smoke and glass by my feet. I clicked on the flashlight and stared at the hallway before me, around four feet in front of me was the curb leading to the main hall. I can’t count how many times I nearly dropped the flashlight in my shaking clammy hands. I peeked my head around the corner of the hall, my vision was engulfed in darkness and I strained to see anything.
I awkwardly took a step out and peered around my shoulder before I pressed forward, the noise grew with each step I took, and with each passing second anxiety bubbled over in my chest. I refrained from holding my head high, instead, I stared at my feet and the carpet around them. I recognized the marks of the hotel as I walked, the ink stain I had left, the patch of missing carpet, the scratched wall side. All of these things used to make the hotel feel homier, but now they left a sour taste in my mouth. I was reaching the last turn in the hall, my next steps directed me to the right, a dead-end finished by another walk-in closet. My teeth clenched and my anxiety over-boiled into the worst heartburn I have ever felt in my life. I continually fought up the courage to try and lift my head, but all my attempts came with failure. That is until a floor rattling thud instinctively raised my head. I frantically spun my flashlight around the closet door.
Before I could come to my senses, another thud rattled the building, it came from behind. It rang in my ears until I was forced to turn around. I dreadfully started my stroll, retracing my steps before I stood next to room 33, the familiar ink stain just inches from my foot. I lifted the flashlight into the air and peered into the room. I instantly let out a bloodcurdling scream. A tall figure stood in the middle of the room glaring down at the bed, I swear its eyes were glowing, wherever the creature looked, marks of green were left behind. Upon hearing my scream, the thing’s head whipped around. I flashed the light into its eyes dreading what I knew I would see.
A nauseating sight stared back at me, his carved face was plastered into a wide dangling smile, drool trickled down his lips and flowed down his neck. Something about seeing him like that filled me with an indescribable emotion.
“WHAT THE FUCK ALEX?” I yelled, “whatever THIS is I can’t deal with it!”
I had never screamed at him like that before. I have never screamed at anybody like that before.
“You know what?- No- no I CAN NOT live like this anymore, come tomorrow you’re leaving, I don’t care where you go, just leave!”
I half expected Alex to come to his senses, I wanted him to make some rude remark towards me, I wanted him to call me a jerk and storm off. But he didn’t. We stood there, I don’t know what he was thinking-I don’t know what I was thinking. I was staring into a monster’s face with the eyes of my husband. Alex took a step, his boney legs audibly creaking as his steps quicked into long strides chasing me down the halls. He was fast, faster than I could ever hope to be, still, I gave my all.
I hadn’t the slightest clue what would happen if he caught me, but I knew it wouldn’t be good. I raced down the right wing into the lobby before b-lining to the west wing. Alex was on my heels, at some point he dropped onto all fours and reared behind me nipping at my heels like a rabid dog. While in the lobby, I knocked a vase over sending it crashing onto Alex’s head, that gave me enough time to race into the nearest closet. I barricaded myself into another storage closet, I ramped a chair against the doorknob and collapsed onto the floor in a blur of sweat, tears, and vomit. It didn’t take long for Alex to catch up to me, he must have pressed his face into the floor because his wheezy breathing echoed into the confined space. I stared in horror at the space between the door and the floor.
Alex quickly resorted to clawing at the floor, his fingers dug underneath the door until his cuticles painted the floor red. Everything in my being told me to look away but my eyes were glued to the scene pouring out in front of me. His nail beds squelched under the pressure releasing indescribable sounds that was later accompanied by snapping. The concrete ground had begun to snap his nails off, one by one they lined up around the floor like a bloody ritual. The flashlight slipped from my hands, it rolled around the small area before claiming a spot behind my feet. From that angle, the light shone directly onto the door and illuminated the gruesome scene. I was shaking uncontrollably and quickly burst into long exasperated sobs. Hyperventilating while choking on my tears, I stomped on Axel’s hand, I rammed my heel into the back of his palm, an audible crunch sent shivers up my leg. He seemed almost unbothered, a small grunt echoed through the crack in the door, but he continued desperately clawing to reach me. I lifted my food once more, in between my hysterics I lost my sense of balance and slipped on the bloody floor. I crashed down, my ankle just inches from the door, Alex seized this opportunity and began clawing at my leg. His hands were cold, I let out another scream the instant they touched me.
Alexavier was, of course, unable to actually grab me, so I easily pulled my leg away. Even so, panic ran through my bones. I lifted my heel once more and pounded it to the ground. This time he let out a cry, I stomped down at least 3 times, each time I could head and feel snapping bones and peeling flesh. He yanked his hands from me and seemingly stopped going after the floor. I never heard him leave, but I was also never given any sign that he stayed. So, I took my chances and waited. I counted to 800 before removing the chair, by then I had slightly calmed down, at least the hyperventilating ceased.
I didn’t care to grab the flashlight, whatever was wrong with Alex wouldn’t be solved by a little light. Stupid thinking, I know, but at that point, my brain had switched into survival mode. If I were to encounter him again I’d have to run, I already held a scissor from the closet in one hand, having both my hands full could end badly. My eyes quickly adjusted to the dark, from a short glance I could tell Axel wasn’t around anymore. Previously, I would have been scared he was hiding somewhere, but to my right, an ongoing streak of blood was painted on the wall. I traced my fingers along it, it was easy to tell Alex had pressed his bleeding fingers into the wall and ran them along as he walked.
Essentially, I had a path leading to him. I carefully trailed behind the streak of blood, it led me back to the right-wing, crossing the ink stain and room 33. The further I went I started to notice the blood… changing…In the beginning, it was a bright crimson red, but the longer I followed it slowly transitioned into a dark browny black color, and clumps of scabs and clotted blood trickled down the walls. The further I walked the colder the hotel seemed to become, frostbit my nose and fingers and I could feel my toes splashing sensation. The trail winded through the right-wing. The trail stopped in front of the electrical closet, its door was half-open, from outside I couldn’t see the inner contents of the room. I heaved in through my nose, shakily gripping the scissor in my right hand. The cold plastic clanked against my wedding ring, the harder I gripped the scissor the tighter the ring dug into my skin. I swear it could have drawn blood, when I reached to push the door open I felt the dull rounded edges of the ring sink into my skin. I didn’t so much as flinch at the pain, I accepted the fact that whatever rested behind that door was probably going to be the last thing I ever saw.
At that moment I thought a lot about my family. They’re not lying when they say your life flashes before your eyes, I thought for a brief moment about my father and mother. I didn’t resent them anymore, Instead, I grieved for the relationship we never had. Despite the current predicament, I thought the most about Alexavier. The day we met, our first date and kiss. I thought about how different we were when we first met. The trials and tribulations of life that we pushed through together.
The door creaked as it opened, I was immediately met with a gush of cold wind. My eyes scanned around the familiar room, the last time I was in there was the start of this nightmare. The memory of Alex’s peering around the corner of the door sent a chill down my spine. I slowly made my way around the shelves in the room, they were set up in a row of three facing vertically from the door. With each passing step I clenched the scissor harder, despite the adrenaline running through my bones, there was nothing. I was almost disappointed when I came up empty-handed, I loosened my grip and let the scissor clatter onto the floor. From the far end of the room, another gust of cold air brushed through the air, with newfound confidence I walked towards the back of the room, as I suspected the small window in the back was wide open. The light of the moon illuminated the messy windowsill.
’m honestly not sure what to call the liquid staining the sill. Previously I called it blood, but this was different. Not a trace of red or that sheen that almost sparkles in the light. This stuff was pitch black, when I reached out my hand to touch it, it stuck to my hands like a sticky goop. Taking my attention off the windowsill and lifted my head to the outside. A trail of footprints led out from the window and into the wilderness, behind them a small trail of black goop followed. This was all the answer I needed. I slammed the window closed, I stood there for a moment, staring into the woods, I knew he was out there waiting for me. After my moment of false sentimentality, I went to leave, there was no point in staying any longer. As I kicked the scissor underneath a shelf something else caught my eye. Right in front of the door sat two pristine blue objects. I crouched down to get a closer look, and there, a few inches from the face sat two small cat eyes.
That was seven years ago, today I live with my sister-in-law in Minnesota. We both became friends after Alexaveir disappeared. Originally, I was supposed to live with her for only a year or two to get back on my feet after selling the hotel; aka my only source of income and the only job I’ve ever had. But after COVID hit we both enjoyed each other’s company. I still have never told anybody what happened to Alex. The police left his case cold after the first year of searching, Anastasia (my sister-in-law) was devastated. After two years we decided to give Alex a funeral, partly to give ourselves some closure, partly to move on with our lives. Only 10 people attended the funeral, I was the only one to give a speech. I lied through my teeth that whole time. I know that Alex isn’t dead. He’s waiting for me in the woods outside of the hotel, he’s waiting for me to join him. The only thing I can do is pray that he’s content waiting and doesn’t decide to come searching.