He screamed.

And then he was running, fleeing from the room, from the stench of death, from her long, violet nails.

When he reached his mother’s arms, he sobbed until he couldn’t breathe.

Jack and the Hotel Jack staggered up the stairs. He wasn’t drunk, but he felt like he was.

Ever since he started talking to Lloyd in the empty bar, the hotel made more sense. It had more purpose.

Now he understood that the Overlook had history. Other families had been here before. Other men with the same mission. And how had it always ended?

He knew.

With blood.

With hysterical laughter in the walls.

With a father doing what had to be done.

Jack stopped in front of Room 217. The door was wide open. Inside, the bathroom dripped. Plop. Plop. Plop.

He stepped in.

Nothing.

Just the shower curtain, swaying slightly, as if something had just hidden.

Jack looked at himself in the mirror.

And his reflection smiled at him.

Wendy and Fear Danny wouldn’t speak.