It was no longer just shadows in the corners or whispers in the hallways. Now there were things.

Things that watched him. Things that wanted to touch him. Things that knew his name.

And Jack… Jack was changing.

Danny and Room 217 Danny didn’t want to go in. He knew it, he had known it ever since Hallorann warned him. But the hotel was patient. It waited. It lured him in.

The door was slightly open.

Inside, the bathroom gleamed under dim light. The shower curtain was drawn halfway, as if someone had left it that way on purpose.

Danny swallowed hard. Don’t go in.

But he did.

Water dripped from the faucet. Plop. Plop. Plop.

Danny felt something watching him.

The curtain moved.

And then he saw her.

The bloated woman, dead, blue, and smiling.

Before he could scream, her hand closed around his wrist.

Danny writhed, tried to pull away, but the fingers, cold as ice, dug into his skin. A rotten gasp escaped the woman’s lips as she sat up, water streaming from her lank, decayed hair.

—Danny… —she whispered.