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When Amelia Crowe, a burned-out hospice nurse haunted by the death of her mother, flees a storm on a lonely highway, she finds refuge in a desolate roadside motel. The clerk warns her not to answer if she hears voices but exhaustion drives her to accept the key to Room 313 anyway.

Inside, the room smells of metal and lilies just like the hospice where her mother died. The wallpaper bulges. The mirror fogs though the air is cold. And when Amelia looks into it, her reflection smiles back with her mother's voice.

As the night deepens, the motel begins to breathe around her. Memories twist into something living, and the walls whisper truths she's buried for years. What Amelia doesn't know is that Room 313 doesn't haunt people it listens. It feeds on regret, reshaping itself into the one thing its guests can't release.

By morning, the room will be empty again. The bed made. The mirror clean except for a single handprint, pressed from the inside.