Deluxe hotel, the brochure said. Apartment sized-rooms. You get your own little kitchen and living room and bedroom. A slightly smaller, more luxurious, home away from home.
The brochure didn't say anything about being woken up in the middle of the night by panicked pounding on the door.
I swung my feet over the side, and moved over the thick carpet to the door. I rubbed the sleep away from one eye and then put it to the spyhole. The pounding had stopped and I saw her, small and naked and covered in streaking blood. She slid slowly down the opposite wall, like her bones had turned to jelly.
I chewed my lip. I lost the argument and opened the door. I looked down both sides of the hallway. They were completely empty, the lights dimmed for the night.
She was too light as I carried her back and laid her down on the couch.
"Hell of a room," she said, befor
Deluxe.