The light in the old hotel room barely held on, flickering like it wasn’t sure it wanted to stay. Claire perched on the edge of the bed, staring at the man across from her. He’d walked in without knocking, his face stretched into a hollow, empty smile, the kind she now wished she’d never trusted. She’d heard the stories, the kind that warned about people like him. People who made others disappear. But she’d never believed those stories. Until now.

“I’ve never met anyone like you before,” she whispered, her voice catching in her throat.

The man tilted his head, smile widening, teeth just a little too sharp. “You should be grateful for that,” he said, voice smooth but stretched too tight, like it could snap at any moment. “Most people don’t.”

Something was wrong with his eyes. They were too dark, too deep, like they weren’t really there. Claire forced herself to look away, fixating on the faded wallpaper behind him, its once bright flowers now just shadowy blurs.

“What… what do you want?” she managed, voice cracking.

He didn’t take his eyes off her, studying her every twitch, every tiny shake. “I want what you promised me,” he said softly, his tone colder than his expression.

“I—I didn’t promise you anything.” Her mind scrambled for an escape plan, glancing to the door that suddenly seemed a lifetime away. But even though she couldn’t explain why, she knew: if she tried to run, he’d be on her in a heartbeat.

“Oh, but you did,” he said, stepping closer, his shadow stretching across the room like something alive. “You promised, in that way people do without realizing it. Every wish, every craving, every time you whispered to the dark for something different. You called me here.”

Her breath hitched. Those late nights drifted back to her, those times she’d begged the universe for a way out, anything to change her life. But they were just thoughts, right? Harmless wishes?

Her gaze darted to the door, but he just laughed, a low, cold sound that crawled under her skin. “There’s no point in running, Claire. I’m here now, and I don’t leave empty handed.”

She swallowed, her fingers clutching the bed so tightly it hurt. “Please… I didn’t know. I didn’t mean it.”

He smiled wider, a smile that stretched too far. “That’s the beauty of it. You didn’t need to know. Desperation is its own kind of invitation.”

He reached out, his hand impossibly long and shadowed, fingers curling in the space between them. She felt a chill seep into her bones, a cold that seemed to pull at something deep inside her, unraveling her spirit bit by bit.

As her vision blurred, she saw his smile widen, felt her strength slipping away, like he was draining her of herself. She’d heard of people who vanished without a trace, lives erased, memories left unclaimed.

No one would know she was gone. No one would remember her.

The last thing she saw was his face close to hers, his voice a whisper against her ear. “Be grateful I was the only one you ever met.”