The drive to the inn was so long and winding it felt like the road was trying to forget where it led. Fog rolled low across the asphalt, clinging to the tires like dead hands. Trees flanked the road, too close together, black-limbed and leafless despite the season. Lena hadn’t seen another car in over an hour. She could almost believe the place existed outside time now; neither then nor now, just always.15Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡ4HyZQYaifH
When her GPS flatlined into “NO SIGNAL,” she didn’t panic. That felt intentional too. Everything did. At the gate, wrought iron rusted with age and memory, a single candle burned in a lantern hanging from the post. It was flickering before she even touched the door.15Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡ67NpG6Vy3A
The inn- St. Amelia’s Memorial Inn- was exactly as she remembered it. And exactly not. The front facade was whitewashed and pristine, with fake ivy crawling artfully across polished stone. New windows replaced the shattered ones, but Lena could still hear the screams lodged in the walls. The ones only she remembered. She parked and stepped out. The silence here was unnatural. Not quiet. Listening. The front door opened before she touched it.15Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡKsboikQezq
“Miss Blackwell,” said a voice like soft rot. A woman stood in the doorway wearing a pencil skirt, red lipstick, and a smile that didn’t fit her face. “I’m Elin,” she said, holding out her hand. Lena didn’t take it. She couldn’t. Instead, she nodded and stepped inside, the air swallowing her whole. The lobby had been the chapel once. They had gutted the altar, paved over the burn marks. But she felt it under her feet, like bones under a shallow grave. Incense now replaced the smell of old smoke, but that just made the memory sharper. Like perfume on a corpse.15Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡkp7JE75CaR
“Your room is ready,” Elin said, guiding her up the curved staircase that hadn’t existed before. “Only a few of you have arrived so far. We’re expecting six more by tonight. Should be a memorable weekend.”15Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡGF07E2m8Ih
That word scratched something behind Lena’s eyes. Memorable. Wasn’t that the point? Room 306. A brass key. No card. How charming. Inside, the room was tastefully decorated in deep crimson and gold, but Lena’s attention snapped to the mirror above the bed. Not because of the antique frame, because someone had written a message across the glass in lipstick: “Not all of us burned.” She didn’t scream. She didn’t have the ability anymore. Instead, she walked to the window. From here, she could see the old garden, now landscaped and trimmed; but she remembered where the bodies were laid out in the snow before the ambulances came. Two of them had been girls she slept beside every night. One had been Camilla.15Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡdlQWN2fjLf
Her phone buzzed. No signal, but the screen lit up with a message. Unknown Number: “Did you keep your vow, Lena? Everyone else broke theirs.” Another buzz. “You’ll see soon. One by one.”15Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡBJPDmFUUkX
That night, someone banged on her door. Not knocked. Banged. Three hard hits. Then silence. When she opened it, no one was there. Just a single item on the floor. A charred rosary, still warm to the touch. Lena stepped back into her room, locked the door, and turned the mirror toward the wall. She knew how this worked. The fire never ended. It just waited.
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