Thrown to the...

[Samantha McManus]

Samantha made her way down the hall towards her room, a faint flush in her cheeks still from the wine. Stopping at her door, she turned the key in the lock.

[Narrator]

For a moment the lights seemed to flicker in the hall as she turns the key and a faint metallic smell hangs in the air.

[Samantha McManus]

"Didn't think they got storms in this area," she murmured before going to open the door.

[Narrator]

Stepping into the room something seemed off, but it was hard to place her finger on what. Hadn't she left her suitcase in front of the bed? It wasn't there now, but maybe she'd put it away before going to dinner. The wine was probably making her memory a little murky.

[Samantha McManus]

She blinked in confusion, then went over to the dresser, thinking that her clothes were likely there.

[Narrator]

Dresses and various clothes inside, a couple shoes in front of the dresser. But before she can look too closely a sound from the closed bathroom door would distract her.

[Samantha McManus]

She tensed, then stilled herself, listening.

[Narrator]

Nothing.

But that doesn't help the feeling of being watched. Of course that's probably just the painting hanging over the bed.

[Samantha McManus]

She stared at the painting for a moment, not quite sure what to think.

"...someone's idea of a joke," she muttered as she walked over towards it, more convincing herself than anything.

[Narrator]

The eyes don't follow her. It's just a painting after all. But if someone swapped it then shouldn't the outline of the wolf painting be visible on the wallpaper?

[Samantha McManus]

"It's just the same size," she tried to assure herself, reaching up to take the dreadful thing down.

[Narrator]

Taking it down would reveal the slightly discoloured square on the wallpaper that doesn't quite want to fit the rectangled wolf painting Sam remembers. And just as she's holding the painting in front of herself the shower in the bathroom suddenly turns on.

[Samantha McManus]

She nearly dropped the awful painting in surprise, scrambling to keep a hold on it before warily setting it down against the wall. Facing away, of course.

She looked towards the bathroom, on edge.

[Narrator]

There's light coming from under the door as well as the sound of running water.

[Samantha McManus]

"Who would even...?"

She looked about for something heavy she could pick up.

[Narrator]

There's not really anything that would be suited as a weapon. Aside from the claw hammer on the nightstand of course.

Wait what?

The wine must have gotten to her more than she thought because what's sitting on the nightstand is a thick book.

[Samantha McManus]

Shaking her head with disorientation, she picked up the book. It was better than nothing.

"...alright," she said in the direction of the bathroom. "You'd best come out, and don't get any funny ideas..."

[Narrator]

Was that a startled high-pitched scream from inside there? Hard to make out, though the running water stops, followed by the sound of the shower curtains being moved.

And then nothing.

[Samantha McManus]

The fact that it sounded like a woman sent a shiver down her, and she nervously listened.

"Look, just... fun time's over. Get... covered up, and let's get you out of here..."

[Narrator]

Silence. And did the light just flicker under the door?

[Samantha McManus]

"Don't.... oh God don't make me go in there..."

She took a deep breath, and then a step forward.

[Narrator]

And she steps into wet carpet. Water must have spilled out from under the door.

[Samantha McManus]

Her lip curled in distaste for a moment, but at least she still had her shoes on as she walked up to the door, book still clutched in one hand.

[Narrator]

Flinging the door open she'd find herself staring at a slightly disheveled looking red-head.

Who was wielding a book.

And looking suspiciously like her image staring back at her from the mirror.

[Samantha McManus]

"Where... where are you?" She mumbled, her eyes darting about the bathroom.

[Narrator]

The bathroom is empty, the shower and air dry, the mirror clear from any fog.

[Samantha McManus]

"But... but I..."

She let out a long breath, setting the book down on the sink and bracing herself against it in front of the mirror.

"Oh God..."

[Narrator]

Behind her the wolf painting was snarling at her from above the bed.

[Samantha McManus]

She slowly turned around to stare at it.

"I didn't... I didn't have that much... did I?"

[Narrator]

They had ordered another bottle but that had been it, hadn't it? Certainly not enough to imagine that painting or missing the suitcase that's clearly sitting at the end of the bed.

[Samantha McManus]

Her breathing quickened, but she choked it back down, gritting her teeth. She went shakily over to the suitcase to get unpacked, so she could get changed for bed.

[Narrator]

Nothing strange happened. Not counting the book that certainly didn't belong to Sam or her room.

[Samantha McManus]

Quirking a brow, she held it up to look at for the first time as something other than a bludgeon.

[Narrator]

The Living Windows by F. Planck. The sleeve is placed on page 137 as a bookmark. Flipping through it Sam might notice that someone has been leaving marks here and there in the paper, probably with a fingernail. There aren't all that many, but all of them are in places where a printing or spelling error has sneaked it's way into the print version.

[Samantha McManus]

"...dreadful editing," she murmured, finally looking to the marked page.

[Narrator]

Nothing in particular. Just the end of a chapter.

[Samantha McManus]

She shook her head and set it back on the nightstand, before giving an idle flick of a finger to a lock she could feel was out of place.