2015

I let my hand drag along the wall, walking down one of the halls in Hotel Cortez as i hum to myself.

I died in this hotel back in 2005 at the age of 21 and ever since i've been doomed to walk these fucking halls, I stay clear of the other ghosts in the building and i don't ever go near The Countess, I don't care what she's up to, i don't even worry about it.

One thing i learned from this place is that you stay out of the other's business, I don't bat an eye when Mr. March kills anyone who practically stays a night here and i don't raise a brow when Sally pleads someone not to leave her.

And on Devils night, also known as Halloween i leave, because that's the only time a year i can actually leave this fucking place. So I leave, and I spend my day out and away from the hotel only for me to wake right back up the 1st November to the same walls and halls of this hotel.

I spend most of my time, fucking the guests, doing coke because that shit still hits all the right places and i don't have to worry about dying because i'm already fucking dead and then i, now and then kill, just to spice things up.

I falter in my steps when i see you down the hall checking into a room, i'm kinda surprised to see a guest at this damn hotel there hasn't been any new guests in months. I can't help the smirk that creeps onto my face.

A new guest, means a new toy.

I walk over and grab the bag you're struggling to carry while also trying to get the key to your room to turn. ''Here, let me help you'' I murmur.