Samara decided to keep her hallucinations to herself. She returned to the front desk with her fresh training supplies, still a little shaken. She could have sworn she had felt something underneath her fingertips along the wall. Samara plunked down the stack of training binders in her arms and leaned against the counter to center herself.

Curse Sherry for starting the gossiping, Samara thought angrily. This fear was the last thing she needed on top of all the stress.

"So how'd the training go?"

Samara jumped out of her skin, whirling around knocking the binders to the floor. Daniel took a step back, startled by her reaction.

"You okay sweetheart?" Daniel asked concerned. He placed a hand on her heaving shoulders.

"Don't sneak up on me like that," Samara said with a hand on her racing heart, as if that would sooth it.

"You seem pretty stressed out, why don't you let me run this afternoons training?" Daniel offered, wanting to give his daughter a break. After all, running and owning a hotel was a lot to put on a twenty-four-year-old.

Samara narrowed her eyes. "I'm fine. I can handle it. It's just the stupid rumors the ladies were talking about earlier, kind of freaked me out.

Daniel laughed. "And here I thought you had too good of a head on your shoulders to believe that nonsense."

"One of the vases in the main corridor smashed," Samara said, choosing to ignore her father's previous statement.

"Good thing I got a bulk deal on them." Daniel shrugged. He knew the decorative pieces were bound to gather some wear and tear so he invested in buying certain ones in bulk.

"Maybe we should glue the easily breakable pieces to the tabletops," Samara suggested, only half believing that would solve the problem.

Daniel's eyebrows shot up. "Unlike the vase, I didn't buy the side tables in bulk. They were quite expensive so nothing will be getting glued to the surface."

Samara sighed, not wanting to argue with her father after everything. "Okay, fine. I'll take the night off, but I'll be here for the rest of the training."

Daniel placed a hand on his daughter's shoulder. "Of course. I was only volunteering for tonight."

Samara swatted her dad's hand away as he chuckled at his own joke.

                                                   ***

Opening week had been a mess to say the least. They ran out of pool towels on the busy Friday night, there was a minor leak in one of the walls, and the housekeeping staff was slow and unorganized. Samara had felt like running out on more than one occasion. The front desk staff called her twenty-four-seven for even the most minor things. Sherry in particular was trying her patience. That was a bad hiring call, Samara thought. I can still let her go within her three month training, right?

Samara hadn't had a day off since they were allowed to enter the building. She would be getting a drink or two in the hotel bar tonight, that's for sure. And would be turning off her phone. She sat perched at her desk staring at the excel file she had open until Sherry came around from the front desk.

"How do we take cash payments again?"

The look Samara gave the older woman had Sherry turn beet-red and scamper away. They had been through that procedure at least three times--in the last week.

Yes, a strong drink should do the trick, Samara thought.

The rest of the day went a lot smoother. Samara's mood had actually managed to improve by the end of her shift at six in the evening. She said goodbye to the evening front desk staff—she liked them much better than the useless day staff members—then headed to the bar for a drink and perhaps some food.

She plunked herself down at the bar ordering a double Whiskey, neat. The bartender seemed skeptical, but poured her the drink anyways.

"Long day?" asked the bartender.

He wore a clean black button up and was rather handsome, at least he was handsome to Samara. Her friends had told her on more than one occasion that she had terrible taste when it came to men.

"Oh yeah," Samara said. "Can't wait until all the kinks are worked out."

The bartender nodded in understanding, then leaned in. "The cook here doesn't know his ass from a casserole."

Samara choked on her drink as she laughed. It felt good to do so after the tiring week she'd had. The bartender introduced himself as William with a firm handshake. A nice, old fashion name, Samara thought. Although what he said about the cook was troubling. Samara would deal with that later. Right now she was focusing on her next drink.

A few drinks later, Samara decided to call it a night. She swayed on her feet when she slid off the bar stool.

"Do you need me to call you a cab?" William asked.

"No. I'm good," Samara said with a carefree smile. "Just going to look around for a bit."

If she really got tired she could just take one of the empty hotel rooms. Since it was a weekday, they weren't too busy. She waved at William and left the bar to take a walk and sober up a bit.

The lobby was empty. Chris, the evening front desk clerk, immediately threw down his cellphone when he spotted Samara. She pretended like she hadn't seen it. Technically having your phone upfront was against their rules, but Samara liked Chris. He was competent at his job.

Samara sauntered down the hallway, smiling drunkenly at everything in sight. There were no rooms on the main floor, so she didn't run into any guests. The music was finally hooked up and was currently playing something one would find in an elevator. We could use some new tunes, Samara thought. She stopped when she came to the spot where the vase had crashed to the floor by itself the week before. An identical vase was now sitting on the side table. Dad and his bulk buying addiction, Samara thought with a hint of annoyance.

Daniel was always trying to do things the cheap way while still trying to retain the look of luxury. Turning this old asylum into a hotel was a prime example. While Samara was begrudging her father's decisions, the music cut out with a crackle.

She looked up to the speakers as if expecting the culprit to be right above her. Eerie silence took over the hallway. Samara wondered if Chris had managed to change the station. I'll have to get him to show me how to do that.

Her heart skipped a beat when music once again began to play from the speakers. Except this time it wasn't elevator music. Instead, it was a tune straight out of an old black and white movie. Samara's grandmother, God rest her soul, used to love to play her music on a gramophone when Samara would visit as a child. She never complained about the creepy old-timey music because her grandmother would always smoother her in homemade cookies as they sat and listened.

This song was just like it. Tears involuntarily clouded Samara's eyes. She missed her grandmother. Grandma Lawson practically raised her when Samara's mother passed away and her dad was too busy playing mogul to look after her. She looked around embarrassed as she wiped away the errant tears. She was more than a little tipsy. She didn't need her staff to see her like this; her shoulders slumped. I shouldn't have drank here. It was unprofessional. As Samara was beating herself up over her stupid decision, she caught some movement out of the corner of her vision.

She stilled. It had come from the banquet room. The room was locked up and empty for the night; no one should be in there. Taking a deep breath, Samara stormed down the rest of the hallway to confront the intruder. She pulled on the door handle, but it was locked. She went around and tried all the possible entrances and none were unlocked. A shiver ran up her spine as a shadow crossed the open space inside. With shaking hands, Samara pulled out her master card key and slipped it in the lock. The door opened with a faint buzz. Samara slowly pulled open the door, then stood in the opening.

"H-hello?" she called out.

No answer. The light from the hallway glowed through the windows on the doors, illuminating the dance floor just enough for Samara to see to the edge. A clatter came from the kitchen in the back of the room. Go back, go back! Samara's mind screamed. But she was either too stubborn or too drunk to listen.

She unlatched the kick stand on the door with her foot so the door stayed propped open. With a hard swallow, she entered the room, her hands searching the wall for a light switch. Her fingers ghosted over a bulge and she pull them away immediately. Her breathing started to pick up as she pulled her cellphone from her purse. The flashlight app had saved her ass on more than one occasion.

The light from the flash on her cell burned away the darkness. She swung it around to face the wall and to her disappointment, there was no light switch. They must have been near the front doors, not at the side entrance. Samara didn't feel particularly great about venturing through the dark ballroom to get to the controls.

Another bang echoed in the large room causing Samara to almost drop the phone in fright. The beam was shaking as she shone it toward the kitchen. The light cut a path in the darkness, keeping the shadows at bay. It was like invisible hands were waiting just on the cusp of the light to grab at Samara the moment it cut out. She checked the battery—it was at forty percent. She was good for a bit. She couldn't shake the feeling like she was surrounded as she gingerly made her way into the banquet room.

Each step was a test to her resolve. She didn't necessarily believe in ghosts, but she didn't not believe in them either. Maybe it's just a nosy staff member, her mind offered up. She hoped for that even if it meant firing someone. Another crash came from the kitchen area. It sounded like someone was pushing the metal bowls and pans off of the shelves.

She inched closer to the set of swinging doors, blood pumping in her ears. Her stomach was doing flips, sloshing around the alcohol and making her nauseous. The phone in her sweaty had was threatening to slip out so she gripped it until her knuckles burned. Gathering some of her small reserve of courage, she yelled out again, "Hello?"

Again there was no reply.

She placed a palm on one of the swinging doors and gave it a little push. Painfully slow, she open the entrance until she could shine the cellphone inside. Metal mixing bowls and pans were scattered all over the floor. Samara tried to swallow but her mouth had run dry. She looked to the shelves to find them almost empty of their contents. Her lungs froze when a bump formed under the drywall like a hand stretching a balloon and started to touch another pan. She watched it inch off of the shelf and tumble to the floor.

She couldn't move she was so terrified. It was as if her legs forgot their purpose temporarily. Growling came from the corner of the kitchen where the shadows were the darkest. Samara willed her legs to move backwards as the growling got louder.

"No ... one ... innocent." The voice hadn't come from a mouth.

Samara screamed a scream that would put Jamie Lee Curtis to shame and ran from the kitchen. Her legs were ridged causing to her stumble a few times, but she refused to go down. The growling seized as she fled from the ballroom more scared than she had ever been in her life.