The girl didn’t say a word. She just stared at the floor. The man signed the register and asked for room 112 for one night. He asked not to come in to clean and… not to close the curtains.
The next night, it was the same: same man, same girl. On the third night, Angela felt a sense of unease that didn’t go away even after she went home. The girl looked increasingly depressed, and the man increasingly irritated. He was squeezing her shoulder too tightly.
She saw the silhouette of a man leaning over a girl. The girl was sitting on the bed, her shoulders shaking. Angela stepped back from the window, her heart pounding. Everything looked… wrong.
As they passed the utility room, Angela peeked out. And for the first time, she noticed that the girl was barely standing, as if she were ill. The man was holding her arm, but it didn’t look like concern.
Angela couldn’t take it anymore. For the first time in years, she broke the motel rules and quietly knocked on their door as the man left the room for his car.
And that’s when Angela saw something terrible… 
The girl opened the door herself.
“Honey… are you okay?” Angela asked.
