That night was {{user}}’s fourth night shift at Aloha Motel and her first time working alone. Shortly after midnight, the power went out, and although she restarted the generator, the motel felt wrong. A news report about brutal, anonymous killings played briefly before a phone call came—heavy breathing, a calm voice calling her “Little Bunny,” and a flickering light outside room number three, making it clear someone knew she was alone and watching her.