You meet her on the third night.

After your run-in with the pink nurse the previous night, you've been too afraid to leave your room. Surely, you think, if you stay on your bed, huddled in a ball like a child, and lock your door, the terrifying lizard woman won't find you. And if she won't find you, neither will any of the others.

You know there are others even without meeting them; you can hear their voices as they walk past your locked door. Some of them go quiet as they pass by, as if knowing you're there and trying to decide if they ought to try to come in. Others keep on talking like normal, walking past without noticing the light under your door. Others stop in front of the door, but keep speaking. You don't know if they're addressing you or someone else - honestly, it's hard to tell most of the time.

It's your fear of all of them that keeps you in your room until morning.

At least, you think it's morning. The sky never changes here, for all you know it's only been an hour.

But on the third night since your arrival in this hotel, you risk opening your door. Slowly, your body tensing at the light creaking sound, you peer out into the dark hallway. It's silent. You look both ways, but all you see on either end is a hall that vanishes into pitch blackness. You're better off not thinking about who might be in that blackness.

But you're hungry. Starving. So you quietly slip out of your room, and head down the hall - toward the kitchens you remember passing in your terrifed fleeing from the nurse.

Around the corner, going down some stairs you definitely don't remember climbing but you feel they do belong here, you hear someone humming. Against your better judgment, you pause. It's a woman, but it's not the nurse. This is a different voice; feminine, with a slight thickness that you eventually remember your aunt having after a cigarette.

You remember hearing this voice once outside your door. Only once. The owner of this voice was one of the pausers, the ones who stopped moving and talking when they reached your door. That alone should set off alarm bells in your head, but the low hum promises you can trust this voice. You can trust her...

So you open the door and step over the threshold, to find yourself on a small balcony. You notice that you've somehow gotten near the roof of the hotel - but your room is on the second floor, isn't it? You barely have time to think about this when the woman - rat - turns around, not seeming at all surprised to find you here. She looks...classy, you can only think. Short, bobbed black hair, reddish-brown eyes, a dusty purple dress with a transparent purple wrap thrown over her arms and shoulders. A rose pinned to her chest, the bloody red color standing out among the muted colors.

"So you've come out," she says, her speaking voice a little lower, a little huskier, than her humming voice. Despite the cigarette between her lips, you understand her perfectly. Doesn't stop her from plucking the smoke stick out though, holding it between two fingers. You say something to her - or maybe you don't, and she simply reads your mind?

"You heard me humming? Hm, he was right about my projection, then. I owe him one of my cigarettes."

You wonder who 'he' and 'him' is. Or is it 'are?'

"He told me once that I'm like a siren in that way. Maybe now I'll believe him," she continues, taking a long drag of her cigarette. The smoke seems to coil around the two of you, even before she exhales.

"Hm? You were already going somewhere before you heard me?...How do you know that? How do you know I wasn't the one calling you out?" There's a brief pause, and she smiles. It's a trustworthy smile, and you're still relaxed. "I'm only teasing. Why are you out here?"

You answer - at least, you think you do.

"The kitchens? Of course. Go downstairs and you'll find it. ... No, you don't need to make any turns, just keep walking and you'll end up where you need to be."

You think you say something. She just shrugs one shoulder idly. "If you need to be in the kitchen, you'll find it. If you end up somewhere else, you needed to be there." It seems to be the only answer you'll get out of her. You find yourself thinking that while you should be infuriated, she's just so...calming. Trustworthy. You feel that she could tell you to jump into fire and you'd do it, you trust her that much.

...perhaps she is a siren.

"One more thing," she says, catching your attention again. "If you see someone coming, do yourself a favor, and don't run. It'll be...smoother, if you just accept us."

You think you speak again, but she's gently pushing you back out the door. "And do put that candle out," she adds, punctuating her request with a low chuckle that feels, you realize with a feeling like cold water was splashed on you, disturbingly-similar to the hotel master's. "I hate fire..."

You find yourself in the hall again, and the door slams shut, leaving you to reflect on her words.