A man eases his eyes open, an alarm screaming somewhere in the distance - or is it nearby? An empty bottle of alcohol slips out of his sweaty palm. What happened? He crawls across the room, across sheets torn apart, glass littered, and money, to the alarm clock. The man takes a drink and surveys the room. He fails to notice, behind him, the door creaks open. He finds his way to the sink, splashing water on his face. He looks up at himself in the mirror. As he stands, he sees something else in the mirror. Writing in blood - miss me? He scrambles out of the room. The alarm blaring again. Pictures on the walls, blood smeared over faces. He finds the alarm clock, but when he turns it off, he hears something else - The television rattles on a static channel. An eerie voice laughs, from behind the static. It pushes the man to the edge of sanity. Where is that sound, that pain, coming from? He hears something else. The spray of trickling water from the shower. Who is in the bathroom? He thought he was alone. The man reluctantly approaches the bathroom, in search of an answer to his question. He finds nothing but darkness. With the harsh illumination of a flashlight, the man turns to the bathtub. A girl speaks to him in a cold desperate voice, and the man makes for the door. He crawls through rose petals toward the bedroom. A voice mumbles formless words in his head. It’s all too much for the man. He flees to the family room, where the girl is there waiting for him. He screams in fear and flees, finding refuge back in the bedroom where it all began. The ringing is still there. And so is the pain.