Doors: Hotel Hell

Chapter 8 (Long Time No See)

Aaron led the group cautiously into Room Eighty-Nine, the dim light barely illuminating the aftermath. They stepped around AJ's gore, blood smeared across the floor like a violent reminder of how close he had been to surviving. The flickering lights stabilized, revealing deep claw marks on the fake Door Eighty-Eight. Aaron's eyes drifted toward the real Door Ninety, slightly offset to the left. AJ had been so close. Almost made it. Lando, his patience worn thin by the constant horrors, angrily opened a drawer in frustration. As if mocking him, a spider leaped out. Without hesitation, Lando stabbed it with his knife and slammed the drawer shut with a growl, finding nothing of use. Ryan stretched his arm with a groan, his gaze locking onto Door Ninety.

"Are we ready?"

He asked, though they all knew the answer. Matt sighed heavily.

"No... But we have to."

Billy stood before the door, glancing down at the now-scratched map. The markings had faded into chaos, but he figured it would reset once they opened Door Ninety. Aaron stepped up beside him, gripping the handle with a sense of finality, his knuckles white as he twisted it. The door creaked open, and on the other side was something new—a large open space that felt unsettlingly different from the claustrophobic hallways. They stepped into the area and Billy looked at the map.

"Welcome to the Courtyard..."

It was an expansive square area surrounded by the looming walls of the hotel. Overgrown plants tangled across the ground, creeping along the cobblestone path, while thick raindrops poured down in a relentless sheet. Above them, a roof stretched across the walkway in the center of the court, keeping them dry, but doing little to dispel the eerie chill of the place.

In the middle of the courtyard, a long walkway stretched out, lined with old, flickering lights. There were fences along the path, but two overgrown routes broke off to the left and right, disappearing into the shadows of the wild, overgrown scenery. At the far end of the walkway, Door Ninety-One loomed—different from all the others. It wasn't the usual wooden door. This one was solid metal, barred with thick iron rods, the number 91 engraved ominously into its surface. Billy pointed ahead.

"That's no ordinary door."

They moved forward cautiously, eyes scanning the Courtyard. George was the first to spot the weathered sign just barely visible through the dense rain. Greenhouse, it read. George's gut twisted, a deep sense of unease rising.

"I don't like this... Not one bit. That Greenhouse... It's gonna be bad. I know it."

The group pressed forward, navigating the courtyard cautiously until they found a pair of rusted shears buried beneath some debris near the path. Aaron picked them up, testing the weight in his hand before using them to cut away the thick vines that blocked Door Ninety-One. As they worked to clear the way, a cold shiver ran down Aaron's spine. The rain masked most of the sounds, but something wasn't right. He froze, staring ahead.

And then they heard it—a voice, low and menacing, cutting through the rain like a blade.

"Long time no see..."

Butch stood in the downpour, barely resembling the man they'd once known. His wild, twitching body was covered in blood, some of it dried and cracked across his ripped, filthy shirt. His eyes darted about, half-crazed, a feral grin stretched across his face as the rain poured down around them.

"You look surprised to see me..."

Butch sneered, stepping forward, his voice warped with madness. He rambled on.

"You wouldn't believe the things I've seen... the places I've been."

His words were disjointed, trailing off into a low, manic laugh. Butch cackled brutally, his voice a weak and pained rasp.