The pain in his head worsened when his feet hit the floor. Squinting from the discomfort, he slid a ten-dollar bill across the counter and asked after the restroom.

Peggy emptied the glass into a sink. “You’ll need to go that way,” she said, pointing out toward the lobby. “Use the one on the second floor—the one down here is on the fritz.”

“All right, thanks.”

“You take it easy now, ya hear?”

Ryan made his way upstairs and found the bathroom down the far end of the hall. He hunched over the sink, cupped his hands beneath the faucet, and spent a minute freshening up before making a slow stride back toward the door. He tugged a paper towel from a dispenser, dried off his face and hands, then stepped back into the hall.

“What the—”

His eyes darted to the floor. Water was gathering around his shoes. The puddle, which was growing quickly, appeared to be seeping out under the door of a nearby room. Had someone left a tap on? Was there a leak coming from somewhere? Prompted to investigate, Ryan approached the door and knocked.

“Hello?” he called out.

No answer.

“Hello?” he yelled, a little louder. “Is anyone inside?”

Again, no answer. Ryan glanced up and down the deserted corridor, unsure what to do. Meanwhile the deluge continued unabated, water spreading farther out into the hall. He banged on the door with the side of his fist, much more firmly.

“Is everything all right in there? Hello?”

Still nothing.

He reached for the handle, expecting it to be locked, but instead it turned freely.

As the door swung open, an empty room was revealed before him, spotless but for a duffel lying in the middle of the floor. Ryan stepped inside, his eyes immediately traveling along the ground, following the trail of water that led to another closed door to his left. White tiles were visible beneath the threshold. The bathroom. He called out once more, but there was still no answer, just the same unsettling sound of running water, now noticeably amplified.

Ryan pushed down on the handle. This door wasn’t locked either. Peering through an inch-wide gap, he glimpsed a bathtub. It was of the vintage sort, with ornate faucets and a thick roll around the edge. Two taps were running full bore, a curtain of water spilling over the rim. He nudged the door open a little more, holding his breath.

Oh no.

There was a girl lying in the bathtub. Her whole body was submerged except for her head, which was arched back over the rim. The water had risen to her chin. Her eyes were closed. She was very still. Too still. Was she . . . asleep? Ryan’s thoughts spun out in a hundred different directions. He couldn’t make any sense of this. How could she be oblivious to the running water? How could she have not woken up?

“Hello?”