Once again, the dried blood of his wounds began flaking, rinsed off by the water and dying it reddish. As the bathtub's drain swallowed it, a hot vapor slowly materialized into thick mist, enveloping the bathroom from nook to cranny.

  Engrossed in a state of relaxation, Lysander failed to notice as the pipes began hissing and clawmarks scratched across the fogged-up mirror behind the shower curtain. Only when the drain began gurgling and the water dammed up did he regain clarity and began inspecting it.

  Lysander’s brows furrowed, and he contemplated.

  As he picked up the drain strainer, a pungent chemical odor wafted up, and he coughed heavily. “Son of a bitch! How many liters of bleach did she pour down these pipes? No wonder they are hissing!”

  Intending to investigate with his flashlight, he pulled back the shower curtain and leaned out of the bathtub, reaching for his clothes. Perusing them, he searched for his phone, but he couldn't find it anywhere.

  As he straightened up, his eyes landed on the clawmarks on the mirror.

  He froze. His breaths grew faster and he retreated a step, his gazed still intensely locked onto them.

  His vision blurred. He had slipped, now tumbling head-first towards the rear ledge of the bathtub.

  As his hands grabbed anything they could get ahold of, he clutched the shower curtains, missing the ledge by a hair's breadth.

  Panting, he adjusted back into a stable position carefully. He steadied his breathing, composing himself before scrutinizing the clawmarks.

  He gulped.

  Several knocks on the bathroom door interrupted him, and the lady’s raspy voice resounded, “One mustn’t light the candles before dinner is served. The meat is yet to be cooked fully.”

  “Yes, Ma’am.” Lysander cracked an ironic smile, weirdly reassured by the old lady’s presence, and blew out the scented candles. “By the way, do you happen to own any exotic pets?”

  Ensure your favorite authors get the support they deserve. Read this novel on Royal Road.

  The lady did not respond.

  He chuckled softly.

  He drew the shower curtains closed once again, washing himself gently with soap, ignoring as the water continued to dam up. Without the lavender-candles-induced tranquility to dwell in, time flew by fast.

  …

  When he was finally done, he stood in a pool of water and blood, subtly emanating an odor of bleach.

  He pulled back the shower curtains, lifting himself out of the bathtub, a puddle forming on the floor tiles. Curiously, he shot the mirror a glance and found the clawmarks gone miraculously.

  Approaching the mirror with measured steps, he scratched his nape in puzzlement.

  The lady’s voice resounded, “If one may suggest, return to the bathtub.”

  “What?” He asked plainly while halting in front of the mirror, thinking he’d misheard. “Return to the bathtub? Why?”

  “As was one’s agreement. Ten minutes, no hot water.”

  “Well, I’m done now.” Lysander wiped the fogged-up mirror, confirming the absence of the clawmarks he’d seen earlier. His gaze beheld his wounds, a ghastly silhouette briefly materializing from the mist behind him.

  “Back into the water!” A shriek pierced the air.

  He grabbed a towel from the rail and wrapped himself up. “You know what?”

  As he picked up his pile of clothes, he continued loudly, “I’ve experienced a lot of shit the last few days. Hell, I put up with your antics for the last couple of months on a day-to-day basis.”

  As he turned towards the door, the bathtub overflowed, going unnoticed amidst his rant.

  “You’ve been lucky to have me as your neighbor, but you’re in for some fun. Who knows who’ll rent my apartment at that time? If you’re lucky, it’ll be an up-and-coming cocaine-doing DJ; if you’re not, it’ll be someone of your caliber. I’ll be gone forever, living in another city, working another job.”

  The overflowing water reached his feet, disrupting his rant. He turned around and inspected the valve, until realizing that the water was overflowing from the drain.

  With his previous anger subsided, he called out, “A plumber! Call one right now! It’s urgent.”

  He fumbled the keys from his clothes, twisting them in the lock, then pulling on the doorknob. However, the door didn’t budge in the slightest. Had that hag used a door wedge to block off his exit in a fit of pettiness?

  “Let me out of here, bitch!”

  He gritted his teeth; his patience was running thin. He braced himself and, with all the force he could muster, rammed his slender body against the hardwood door, but to no avail.

  He scanned the bathroom for anything that could potentially help him pry this door open.

  That’s when his gaze was drawn by a maelstrom that formed slowly above the drain in the bathtub. Its ripples grew larger with each passing second, until the drain gurgled violently, culminating in a splash which drizzled on Lysander’s face.

  His head jerked sideways, his eyes squinted. The chemical odor was now overwhelmed by a foul stench, and he coughed before opening his eyes again.

  An indistinguishable sludge floated on the surface of the water.

  Pinching his nose, he approached it, inspecting the components.

  Between clumps of green, brown, and black, there were some strands of hair, fat, bones, and teeth. Most of them were too small or too big to originate from humans, and he sighed a heave of relief as his worst fears were eliminated.

  However, beneath the rotten amalgamation, a faint glimmer of light shone, and he drew closer.

  It was a wedding ring.