CHAPTER 6: THE WOMAN IN RED.

Moments later, Candice stepped out of her room, shutting the door softly behind her—only to nearly collide with the strange old woman. The old woman moved slowly, her steps oddly synchronized with the eerie ritual song still humming from her throat.

Candice froze. Her breath hitched. Something about the woman—her vibe, her presence—stopped time for a moment. The air around her felt heavy and ice-cold. As the woman glided past her without a glance, Candice's knees buckled. She fell to the ground in a daze, heart pounding like a drum inside her chest.

Her skin erupted in goosebumps. That feeling was back—the strange chill, the sensation of something unseen brushing against her soul.

Have they finally started showing themselves to me? Have they taken form? she thought, panicking. I... I need to call the therapist!

But before she could gather her thoughts, the man from the airport emerged from the room across the hallway.

“Hey,” he greeted casually, as if he hadn’t just walked into a moment of pure dread.

Candice flinched and quickly turned to him, blinking in confusion.

“Hi...” she replied, trying to compose herself. She couldn’t even place his face at first. Her brain was still scrambling through the events of the past few seconds.

“I never properly introduced myself,” the man said, offering a small smile. “We met at the airport. I, uh… accidentally knocked your phone to the floor.”

Candice’s eyes widened slightly. “Oh, right. You…” Her voice trailed off, distracted again by where she last saw the old woman.

The man chuckled softly, then offered a hand to help her up. “Need a hand?”

She hesitated—then looked into his eyes. He was serious, calm… present. After a short pause, she took his hand, and with surprising ease, he pulled her to her feet. His arm wrapped naturally around her waist for support. For a fleeting moment, their bodies were close—closer than either expected.

He smiled again.

“So, we meet properly at last,” Candice murmured, her eyes searching his face.

“Yes, though I’m only here for tonight. And maybe tomorrow. Didn’t expect to find a familiar face—and as a neighbor, no less.” He gave a small laugh. “I’m Jeff. Jeff Stewway.”

She stared up at him, his strong build casting a comforting shadow under the hallway light. His eyes—vivid blue—made her pause.

Were his eyes this blue before? she wondered.

Snapping herself out of it, she lightly pushed his hand off her waist and stepped back until her back touched her room door.

“Call me Candice,” she said briskly.

They shook hands, eyes locked for a second too long.

Then Candice asked, with a nervous swallow, “By any chance... did you see a weird old woman walk by just now?”

Jeff raised an eyebrow. “Weird old woman? Did she go through that door?” He gestured to the passage Candice had stared down moments ago.

Candice turned to look too, then shook her head. “Forget I said anything. Goodnight.” She spun, rushed into her room, and locked the door without another word.

Jeff stood there, lips parted as if to say more. He looked toward the door the old woman had passed through, eyes narrowing. The hall had grown too quiet, as if it were holding its breath.

Candice’s terror lingered in the air like smoke.

He sighed and bit his lower lip thoughtfully. Whatever she saw, he missed it—but the weight of it lingered.

---

Inside Room 210, moments earlier, Jeff stood in front of the small sink in his private bathroom, hands trembling as they hovered over the porcelain basin. His chest rose and fell in hard, uneven breaths. The muscles in his arms were tensed, veins raised beneath his flushed skin. Sweat clung to his upper body—rivulets sliding down over defined shoulders, coiling along the deep line of his collarbones, and trailing between the curves of his chest. Faint, silvery scars—remnants of old bullet wounds and knife slashes—crisscrossed his torso like a faded map of violence, their jagged lines a quiet testament to a past that refused to stay buried.

He gripped the sink tighter, the cold ceramic grounding him.

His reflection stared back—haunted.

His normally sharp features were damp and drawn. Blond hair matted to his forehead. Drops of sweat beaded on his brow, slowly falling down the sharp cut of his jaw. His piercing blue eyes were wide, unblinking.

He looked like he’d seen a ghost.

Because he had.

In the dream...

Jeff had been back in the service, lying in a cot somewhere deep inside the belly of a forward operating base. The walls were concrete. The air, stale and tight. He’d been staring at the ceiling fan, half-awake—when something cold crawled up from the foot of his bed.

At first, it felt like a draft.

Then it spoke.

A voice—rasped, wet—had whispered right beside his ear, its breath sliding down the back of his neck.

“They brought her back… but she’s not the same.”

He'd turned sharply in the dream, arm instinctively reaching for a weapon that wasn’t there.

But all he saw was a shape in red, faceless, crouched at the edge of his cot like a dog waiting to pounce.

He’d jolted awake then, soaked in sweat, gasping like he’d been drowning. The barracks gone. Reality slow to return.

Now, as he stared into the mirror, jaw clenched and heart pounding, he splashed cold water onto his face—again and again—trying to scrub the image from his mind. Water ran down his chest, catching in the creases of scarred muscle. He stood half-dressed, a towel around his waist, the rest of him fully exposed under the yellow light above the mirror. His reflection was a stark contrast to the fear behind his eyes.

But that dream—it hadn’t been like the others. It felt different. Real. It carried something with it.

Jeff reached for the towel hanging on the wall and wiped his face, then dragged it slowly over his chest and shoulders. His dog tags clinked faintly against the porcelain as they swung free from beneath the towel.

He stared one last time at himself—watching his hand tremble again as it gripped the edge of the sink.

Then he steadied it. One deep breath as he dressed.

The other hand reach

ed for the doorknob.

He stepped into the hallway just as Candice stumbled backward in terror.