I glanced at the clock mounted on the grey wall directly opposite the bed. The time read 2:16 am. It was ticking too loudly. I could hear the gears within it move, the strain it took, the creaking of the bed springs with every slight movement of mine, and the whisperings of someone in the next room. I felt the onset of sensory overload. The stillness of the room choke me, like ghostly fingers tightening around my throat. In my head, I could hear the faint echo of their screams. Or maybe my brain was short circuiting itself and soon I would turn insane.
I yanked the covers off me and shot out of bed. I badly needed fresh air, but there was only a single window in the room, and it's shutters were jammed close.
With quick steps, I descended the stairs. The motel keeper who had offered me be
