In the lift, I met a girl. 

She was pale, looked scared. 

I asked if she was okay, and she smiled a smile that said, “no, not really.” 

The lift took a long time, so we got to chatting. Her name is Elizabeth Black. She said she was on her honeymoon. 

Later, I saw her again. She looked wet, soaked through. I asked her if she had fallen in the pool, and she said she couldn’t remember. 

We rode the lift together again and I asked her what room she was staying in. 

She said 3204. 

“You must be mistaken,” I said. “That’s my room.”

But she was sure. She said she had been there for a long time.

She said she had been waiting for me.

I can’t leave. 

Help me. 

-Hidden in the bureau.