Two weeks after Karen had thrown her matress to the curb after failing to kill the spot with bleach, it appeared again in a diluted form. The stress of finding a bloody spot on her bed, and being unable to locate a cause for the spot brought stress upon Karen that could only be broken by long, hot baths. And it was during such a bath, with steam overtaking the mirrors and slicking the tiles, that the spot appeared again.

Sam was nearby this time, reading in the bedroom when Karen screamed. The narrative was clear by the tone, pitch and longevity of the scream. While it was shocking, it was not surprising to find Karen naked and trembling, a bathtub tinged deep red with blood behind her.

Again he checked her for wounds and found none, save her mental state. Karen described her fear of The Spot as a dead hand reaching into her innermost being and ripping out chunks. She didn’t sleep that night, nor the night after.

“Help me,” she asked Sam.

“I’m going to figured this out,” he said.”If it kills me.”