Sylvia's work took her to towns by the edge of the country. However, an ill-fated incident during travel had caused her to develop a serious case of paranoia.
On this night, the rain had her shook; the windows were glazed by the mist leaving the car's hood, and she could barely see through the darkness as the window was banged by the thunderous downpour from the skies.
As if a prayer was answered from the heavens, a burst of light emerged from the fog. It was a motel. Neither magnificent nor welcoming, but a place to stay nonetheless.
Sylvia contemplated braving further, but her mind flashed back to that night - that man had seemed so friendly, before he grabbed hold of her hair and tried to pull her into the shadows. Shuddering, Sylvia headed inside the motel.
She came across a man at the reception, two men seated by the door, and a mother and a child by a piano.
Sylvia's trepidation dissolved at the sight of the woman and her son; a hissing sound cut at her ears before she could let the relief settle in.
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It was the receptionist, whose eyes were round orbs containing a solitary pool of pitch black. His gaze burned at Sylvia; this expression looked all too familiar. Upon realizing he had been staring without reason, the man spoke.
"Room for one?"
"Yes."
His lips spread across his face upon hearing her answer. The man looked into a folder he carried, but the smile remained.
Sylvia saw as the two men seated averted their attention away from her, clearly watching her before she turned around. She felt the pangs of regret at failing to call on someone to accompany her before leaving.
"Expecting company?" As if having opened a door to her thoughts, the receptionist's voice pricked her ears.
"Excuse me?" Sylvia was scandalized at the question.
"Need to add it in the register," the man pointed toward the book.
Sylvia shook her head, pursing her lips.
The man tilted his head looking under the table; Sylvia had the horrible feeling he had a hidden camera under there.
"Don't worry, we keep our customers nice and comfy here," the receptionist chortled; that sneer on his face looking more snakelike by the second.
"Is my room ready?" Sylvia had no interest in making needless chit-chat.
"Will be in a minute," the man answered without pause, never moving his eyes off Sylvia, nor did the sneer dissipate in the slightest. The only thing missing from the yellow teeth that he flashed at her were the presence of fangs.
An uncomfortable silence ensued; the man was more than happy to ogle at her as if waiting to offer her a present. Sylvia had reached the end of her tether over his blatant staring, before-
