The Warm Water

Location: Private Residence

Classification: Repeating Event / Unidentified Presence

Status: Unresolved

Evidence Summary

He ran a hot bath to get the blood flowing.

Steam clouded the mirror. The water lapped softly against the porcelain. He sat still, listening to the pipes tick as they cooled.

Then he felt the cold steel bite into his skin.

A soft laugh came from somewhere in the room.

He slipped away.

The next moment, he was back in the tub, the razor pressed against his wrist.

He dropped it. His hands flew to his face, and he began to sob. He knew this moment now. He knew the laugh would come. He knew what his hands would be holding when he opened his eyes again.

He tried to call for help, but the sound died in his throat.

The water rocked gently around him.

The laugh came again.

Then the room went dark.

He woke with his eyes closed, listening to the water shift around him.

“No,” he whispered.

The razor was cold in his hand.

He understood. There would be no door, no rescue, no waking somewhere safe. He would never climb out of the tub. He would never reach the end of the moment.

He was dead.

And this was hell: the same warm water, the same cold steel, the same soft laugh—and the knowledge that it would begin again.