Caleb did not answer the receptionist.
He sat perfectly still in the security room, staring at the line on the screen:
Last Seen: ROOM 313
Unverified.
That word pulsed in his head.
Zahra was not listed as missing.
Not dead.
Not checked in.
She was something worse.
The radio crackled again.
"Security?" the receptionist repeated, still cheerful.
"The guest says she knows you."
Caleb swallowed. "Send her up," he said.
The words tasted wrong.
The elevator camera flickered.
Floor numbers slid past—1…2…3—
Then stopped.
The doors opened.
No one stepped out.
The hallway camera on the third floor showed empty carpet, still lights, quiet air.
But the sound feed—
Breathing.
Close.
Right beside the camera.
Caleb stood slowly.
His reflection in the dark monitor glass rose with him, but a fraction of a second late.
He didn't look away.
"Zahra," he said quietly. "If that's you… don't play games."
The sound feed clicked.
A whisper leaked through the speakers.
"You shouldn't have let it mark you."
Caleb's chest tightened. "Where are you?"
A pause.
Then—
"In between."
The monitors changed.
Not to Room 313.
To the walls around it.
Inside them.
Caleb saw narrow spaces—impossible gaps—lined with wiring, old pipes, forgotten things. Names were scratched everywhere. Some recent. Some ancient.
And there—
Zahra.
Not whole.
Not broken.
Pressed flat against the wall like a shadow that hadn't fully detached from its owner.
Her eyes opened.
Caleb staggered back. "Jesus—"
"Don't," she said sharply. "It listens when you pray."
The walls pulsed.
The feed distorted.
Caleb steadied himself. "You said it couldn't reuse you."
"It can't," Zahra replied. "So it's doing something else."
Her voice trembled for the first time.
"It's learning how."
The door to the security room creaked.
Caleb spun.
Empty hallway.
But the handle continued to turn—slowly, patiently.
"Caleb," Zahra whispered urgently, "you're standing where Morrow stood."
Caleb froze.
"What happens next?"
The monitors flickered to the archive footage again.
J. Morrow screaming.
The lights going out.
The room opening.
Then a final frame Caleb hadn't seen before.
Morrow seated at the desk.
Calm.
Still.
Watching.
His eyes—
Gone.
Black voids reflecting Room 313.
The handle stopped turning.
The door stayed closed.
Zahra's voice dropped to a whisper.
"This is the part where you decide what you are."
Caleb's hands shook.
"I already chose," he said bitterly. "I let it take people."
"Yes," Zahra replied. "That's why you still have a choice now."
The wall feeds flickered.
Zahra pressed her palm outward, as if touching glass.
"It needs you functional. Watching. Obeying."
Caleb clenched his fists. "And if I stop?"
The building groaned.
Deep.
Structural.
"Then it stops pretending," Zahra said.
"And everything it's holding back gets a vote."
Caleb closed his eyes.
In his mind, he saw the lobby full of guests.
Families. Couples. Children.
All unaware of the weight above them.
When he opened his eyes, his reflection had changed.
Calmer.
Colder.
"I won't destroy it," he said.
The room stilled.
Zahra inhaled sharply.
"But I won't let it choose alone anymore," Caleb continued.
"If it replaces… it does so by my rules."
The monitors flickered.
Text appeared.
Caretaker authority updated.
Zahra's eyes widened. "Caleb—don't—"
The walls shifted.
The pressure around her eased slightly.
She gasped.
"You just chained yourself to it," she said.
Caleb nodded. "I know."
The radio crackled one last time.
"Security," the receptionist said softly.
"We have a new vacancy."
Caleb looked at the screen.
Room 313.
Available.
Waiting.
He leaned back into the chair.
"I'll handle it," he said.
And for the first time—
Room 313 did not breathe.
It listened.
Author's Thought
There is a moment when survival
stops being innocent.
When you realize you are no longer trapped—
you are installed.
And the darkest horror
is not becoming the monster…
but becoming the one
who decides
how the monster feeds.