My best friend claimed to be a money-saving expert.

During the Labor Day holiday, she insisted we stay at an abandoned hotel—for free.

Standing in front of the rusted gates overgrown with weeds, I hesitated, unease creeping down my spine.

“Samantha, this feels dangerous,” I said quietly. “Is saving a few bucks really worth the risk?”

She looked sheepish but forced a grin.

“It’s impossible to find a hotel now—it’s peak season. And don’t you think it’s exciting?” Her eyes sparkled. “We can use the money we save for a big feast!”

Even my boyfriend chimed in, laughing,

“Samantha's got a sense of adventure. Cherie, you’re too uptight. You don’t know how to enjoy life!”

I reluctantly followed. I had no idea this trip would be my last.

That night, I was stabbed in the throat—and died.

There were no cameras. No witnesses. I thought Samantha and my boyfriend would help the police, cry for me, fight for justice.

But at my funeral, they went live on social media, claiming I had insisted on staying in the abandoned hotel for the thrill of it. That my recklessness caused my own death.

The livestream went viral. Sympathy poured in. So did donations and compensation.

Then came the official couple reveal—my best friend and my boyfriend.

Grieving lover. Heartbroken bestie. Perfect victims.

The killer was caught soon after.

That was when the truth came out. The hotel had been shut down years ago due to a string of brutal murders.

Samantha knew. She even remembered the killer’s pattern—he always returned to the scene of the crime on the anniversary.

So she brought me here. Placed me in that room.

I was a pawn. Bait.

I couldn’t rest in peace. The truth screamed inside me.

And then—I opened my eyes again.

We were back at the gate of the same abandoned hotel. Samantha was smiling like nothing had ever happened.

——

“Cherie, let’s stay here tonight,” she chirped. “It’s still a five-star hotel, even if it’s been closed for years!”

“You have to treat me to a feast—we’re saving so much money!”

She pointed excitedly at the overgrown, crumbling building behind her.

But I stood frozen, my blood cold, my face pale.

Deja vu. No—this was more. This was a second chance.

Samantha noticed my hesitation and frowned.

“Why are you spacing out? Come on, don’t be dramatic.”

She reached out to pull me, just like before.

I slapped her hand away. My heart pounded like a drum.

In my last life, we came here too.

She didn’t ask. She planned everything. The booking, or lack of it. The room. The lies.

Back then, I only felt vague dread. Now, I remembered it all—too clearly.

So I looked her in the eye, calm but firm.

“Samantha, let’s not do this. Let’s stay somewhere safe. I don’t care if it’s a dingy internet café—I’m not stepping into that place.”

Her smile faltered. Just for a second. But I saw it.

The mask was slipping.

“The hotel’s facilities are still great,” she insisted. “I worked here, remember? It’s better than some of those cheap inns.”

“And it’s not haunted,” she added, almost too quickly.

I remembered then—she had worked here during college. She used to rant about the guests, call them suckers for paying so much.

But if the hotel was so luxurious… why did it shut down?

My gut twisted. My instincts screamed.

Suddenly, a gust of wind howled through the cracked glass doors of the lobby.

It sounded like a growl. A warning.

My hair stood on end instantly, and I said firmly,

"No. I can’t sleep in a place like this—even if I force myself. If you want to stay, go ahead. I’ll find another place.”

Samantha fell silent, lips twitching as if she wanted to argue. Before she could speak, her boyfriend Bernard cut in sharply,

“Cherie, don’t be dramatic. You’re not even staying alone. We’re sharing a room, while Samantha has to stay by herself—and she’s not complaining. Why are you acting so fragile?”

“Samantha knows how to live smart,” he added with a scoff. “You’re the one wasting money like it’s nothing. No wonder you don’t understand life.”

Samantha tried to smooth things over, her voice light,

"Oh come on, Cherie's just used to a pampered lifestyle. It's normal she’s a little picky. How about this? Let’s stay here just for tonight, and I’ll find something else tomorrow morning.”

With both of them pressing me, I reluctantly agreed.

I never expected that night would be my last.

Trying to make me more comfortable, Samantha took us to a luxury suite within the abandoned hotel—one that still had silk sheets and working lights. She even handed me a pair of new silk pajamas, saying they were a gift. But I still felt uneasy. A suffocating sense of dread clung to me like smoke.

I couldn’t shake the feeling that something was watching me.

Bernard noticed my fear and tried to comfort me. He checked the doors and windows, even dragged the table to block the entrance. Then he sat by the bed and whispered, “Don’t worry, I won’t sleep until you do.”

His presence calmed me a little. Eventually, I drifted off.

But when I woke up in the middle of the night… I was alone.

A chill ran down my spine. My heart pounded. Something was wrong.

Then, suddenly, a loud bang echoed from the door.

I froze in place, fear seizing my body. Trying to calm myself, I whispered, “Bernard? Is that you?”

The knocking stopped. A beat of silence. Then, a voice I knew all too well answered from the other side.

“It’s me.”

Relieved, I opened the door without hesitation.

But the moment it swung open, a large hand wrapped around my throat and slammed me into the wall.

The man wasn’t Bernard. He was tall, muscular, and his face was twisted in rage.

Before I could scream, he slit my throat with a knife.

“Bitch. Finally caught you.”

Blood spilled down my chest as I staggered back, hands clutching my neck, struggling to breathe. I collapsed onto the cold floor, life slipping away. The last thing I saw was his face—familiar, but I couldn’t remember from where.

After my death, the investigation went nowhere. The hotel had long been abandoned. No security cameras. No witnesses.

I thought Samantha and Bernard would help the police, fight for justice, mourn me.

I was wrong.

They live-streamed my funeral.

On camera, Samantha cried crocodile tears.

“I warned her not to stay in an abandoned hotel. But she was stubborn—said she wanted the thrill. Now look what happened…”

“She always wanted to take advantage of everything. Once, she faked finding hair in her takeout just to get a refund. I guess karma catches up eventually.”

Then Bernard joined the smear campaign.

“She was never faithful. Had a bunch of guys behind my back. The murderer was probably one of them.”

Their lies went viral. They raked in sympathy, donations, and even a hefty compensation payout.

They got rich off my blood.

While my parents—humiliated, attacked online—lost everything. My mother died from grief. My father followed soon after.

Rage burned through me like wildfire.

Now, standing at the gates of that same cursed hotel, I watched as Bernard reached for my suitcase.

“Cherie, what are you hesitating for? Just go in—I’m exhausted.”

Just then, a shadow flickered past and vanished into the darkness.

But Samantha didn’t seem to notice at all. She casually led us to the door of the luxury suite like nothing happened. As soon as she unlocked it, Bernard stepped inside and couldn’t help but exclaim,

“Damn, even abandoned, this place puts budget hotels to shame. Five-star quality for sure!”

Samantha beamed with pride.

“Of course! Back then, a night here would’ve cost at least seven or eight grand. Without me, do you think you’d ever get the chance to stay in a room like this?”

Her words sent a chill down my spine. Suddenly, something clicked.

Last time, I had been too terrified to take a proper look at the suite. But now, as I scanned the room, everything felt hauntingly familiar. The layout, the wallpaper, even the view—it all matched the crime scene from a serial murder case a few years ago. The news had been censored heavily, but I still remembered it.

The man who killed me in my previous life—he wasn’t just a murderer. He was the serial killer from the headlines.

And the murder? It happened during the Labor Day holidays.

I felt the blood drain from my face. Had Samantha known this all along? Did she deliberately bring me to this exact room?

And Bernard… in my last life, I opened the door after hearing his voice. Could it be… he knew the killer

Had they planned this together?

My scalp prickled with fear. I had never imagined that the two people I trusted the most were the ones who had wanted me dead.

At that moment, Samantha gently pushed Bernard and me toward the suite.

“What are you two dawdling for? Go on, get in!”

The memories came rushing back in full force. Instinct kicked in.

I stepped back and snapped,

“This suite is disgusting! It’s pitch black inside—not even a working light. You two can stay if you want, but I’m not spending the night here.”

Without waiting for their reactions, I grabbed my luggage and stormed downstairs, ignoring the shift in Samantha’s expression.

I told myself—if I can get out of this hotel, I won’t end up with my throat slashed. Not this time.

But just as I stepped outside, Bernard chased after me and grabbed my arm. His breathing was heavy, his tone coaxing.

“Don’t be mad, baby. I know you’re afraid of the dark, so I brought a flashlight for you.”

He smiled, but something about it felt off—too slick, too rehearsed.

“You even sleep with your eyes open. Tell me, what are you planning, huh?”

I was about to brush him off with a half-hearted excuse about dim lighting… but then he pulled out a heavy-duty tactical flashlight. When he flicked it on, the whole area lit up like it was broad daylight.

My heart sank. He wasn’t just trying to comfort me. He was making sure I had no reason to leave.

He wanted me back in that suite.

But I wasn’t that naive girl from my past life anymore.

I clutched my stomach and put on a pitiful face.

“Okay, I’ll go back. But I’m starving. I’ll grab something to eat at the convenience store across the street.”

I handed him my luggage with a sweet smile.

“You go on ahead and wait. I actually prepared a surprise for you tonight.”

Before he could react, I bolted across the street, ducked into the store, and immediately crouched in a corner to watch him.

Bernard stood by the hotel entrance, frowning. A moment later, he lowered his head and made a phone call. His voice was low, but I didn’t need to hear the words to understand.

He was talking to Samantha. Plotting.

My heart twisted with a bitter ache.

The man I loved… the best friend I trusted for over ten years… both of them conspiring to kill me. Last time, I’d been too shaken to notice the signs. But this time, I wasn’t going down so easily.

I bought a few random snacks, then slipped out the back door of the store.

Hotels were fully booked for the holiday, so I found a nearby bathhouse to stay in for the night.