10. Dov
DOV
I sense her presence in the hotel.
It shifts the energy of the place, charging it like the build of thunder in a storm.
I’d swear I can smell her on the air, something fresh like crushed leaves and rain in the morning.
It reminds me of the real world, and how I’m trapped here, but instead of it bringing me sadness, it exhilarates me.
I watched her arrive as I stood at the window.
She’s young, but there’s a weight to her shoulders that most her age are lucky not to know.
I’m sure, when I’m able to get close enough, I’ll recognize the pain in her eyes.
She’s completely unaware of my presence, and I plan to keep it that way for as long as I can.
But still, I wonder if she’ll sense me. Will she feel the weight of my gaze on her and question where it’s from?
It’s night now—the time when I feel most comfortable. I walk the hallways of the hotel, a shadow of the man I once was. I know this old place intimately. The groan of the west wing as the floorboards settle. The way the radiators hiss like cats fighting on a fence.
I keep myself hidden behind mirrors and tucked into the darkest corners of this place. She might not know I’m there, but I will be.
Watching her.
A strange sense of protectiveness rises inside me. I want to shield her from the drafty window. I want to warn her about the loose floorboard by the bathroom. I want to tell her the hotel can be kind if you let it.
Mostly, I want her to stay.
The other two will want the same; I’m sure of it.
We all just need to be careful not to do anything that will scare her away.
I know I’m the one most likely to make that happen.
I need to control myself, which isn’t something I’ve always been good at, even before everything happened. Now, it feels impossible.
Still, when she turns out the light, I keep watch. Not to frighten her. Not to announce myself.
Just to make sure the night behaves.