The Shining

Lorraine Massey: Woman in Bath

This includes a description of self harm and suicide. This is not meant to to encourage or glorify suicide or self-harm. If you feel the urge to do either, please seek help. There are many resources available ❤️

1975

Lorraine Massey was the callous wife of a prominent New York lawyer. She had been traveling to the Overlook for approximately thirty years, and every employee knew her because she was notorious for seducing the young and impressionable bell boys.

She requested room 217 every time she came to the hotel so they could engage in these sexual acts. This was a symbol of her loathing her husband, because their wedding anniversary was February 17th. It did not take long for her actions to be spread like wildfire throughout the hotel. Everyone knew who she was.

During one of these many visits, she came to the hotel with a much younger man. It was debatable if he was even over the age of eighteen. He was obviously there for her fortune, and the two would drink in the lounge every single night together. The employees noticed the puppy-dog look in his eyes when he was near her, but by the end of their ten-day stay, he was clearly over her. He would even flirt with other women in front of her which made her infuriated but she was so lonely, she let it slide.

Lorraine was down on the ground floor with the young man, and he told her to wait for him. She sat at the bar in the lounge while he went up to the front desk. He told the clerk that Lorraine needed medicine, and that he needed to leave. He stepped out of the front doors to the hotel, and he never came back.

Lorraine stayed in the lounge, trying to keep herself busy by smoothing out the fabric of her gray skirt or inspecting her nails that had bright blue polish that was beginning to chip. She even reapplied her lipstick and fluffed her hair so she would look beautiful for him. She ordered a few drinks, but with every passing hour she began to be less hopeful. She patiently waited for him to return, but he never did.

Lorraine stayed in the lounge until the bartender had a last call for drinks. She tried to stay strong about his departure, but she eventually came to accept that she had been ditched. Her lips trembled in both sorrow and wrath, so she didn't say a word as she paid for her drinks and walked briskly back to the elevators to go back up to her room. This was the last time she was seen alive.

She marched through the hallway until she reached Room 217. She slammed the door of her room closed. She locked it and pulled the chain, and pressed her back against the door. Her chest rose and fell and her face was growing hot at the utter embarrassment and pain she felt from the feeling of being discarded like garbage.

Lorraine took this feeling of self-loathing and disgust and it leaked out of her eyes. She marched into the mint green bathroom to wash her face. When she looked up at herself in the mirror, she paused. When she was young, she was absolutely beautiful. People would stop her in the street, she looked like she stepped out of a dream. She was as pretty as a picture, truly an exhibition of art. Her long hair was silky and her lively eyes would light up a room. She saw herself as the model of perfection, a narcissistic mindset that made her believe that everyone else was a mere copy of her. There was no doubt that she was breathtaking.

But now, she no longer saw that beautiful woman looking back at her. She now saw what she used to be terrified of. She saw her biggest nightmare. She did not see her earned wrinkles as a symbol of her experience and wisdom, instead she saw them as failure. Even her body wasn't the same anymore. She was not going to get any younger, she was just going to get more saggy and rotten. She felt like she was nothing more than just an old hag. She was invisible and no longer worthy to the male gaze.

There was only one way to stop aging.

Lorraine closed the bathroom door and turned every light on. She plugged the bathtub drain and released the pure hot water valve. As it filled the tub, the steam rose from the water and fogged up the mirror, making her invisible to even her own reflection.

Lorraine went into her bag and pulled out a bottle of pills she had stolen from her partner earlier. She did not hesitate to take off the cap and swallow every pill in that bottle, and washed it down with a full bottle of booze. Then, she stood in front of the bath and pulled down her skirt, and took off her shirt until she was just in her birthday suit.

She stepped into the bath, and the water was so hot it was burning her skin. She looked like a lobster once she submerged herself in the steaming bath, and it was so torturous she almost got up but the pain of being rejected overpowered the burning agony of the water. The water kept running through the faucet, bringing fresh hot water into the tub every second.

Lorraine took her razor from the side of the bath, and brought the blade up to her wrist. She dug the sharp instrument deep into her flesh and pulled it down. The blade ripped through her skin and muscle so she screamed out. She was in so much pain, but she tried to ignore it. She did this a few more times, some deeper than others on both forearms. When she was done, everything was red. Her arm was red, the water was red, and even the floor was red. The white porcelain tub was dripping with blood.

Lorraine sat there for a second, letting herself come to terms with the irreversible decision she had made. She dropped the razor and let her lack of blood and intense heat bring darkness in and out of her vision. She felt light-headed and dizzy, and regret was the one thing on her hazy mind. Her head relaxed back as the pills began to take affect, mixed with alcohol she grew numb. She slipped down below the waters surface and drowned.

The next morning, guests began to complain of water dripping through the ceiling of the ground floor. Lorraine had not checked out but employees assumed that she left because her partner did. A maid was assigned to go into her infamous room to clean it for the next guest, and as soon as she opened the door she heard that the water was still running.

When she stepped into the the colorful room, the peacock carpet was squishy under her feet. The maid looked up and saw the closed bathroom door, with dim yellow lights shining through the cracks like it was the mouth of hell itself.

The maid slowly opened the door and her hand flew up to her nose. There was a horrific smell lingering in the room that made her eyes water and stomach turn. What she saw was a grotesque scene: the steaming hot water was still running and it was steaming up the green bathroom. The maid felt like she had stepped into a vegetable steamer. She trudged through the water that soaked through her shoes and burned her ankles so she could get to the tub on the other side of the room. She pulled the shower curtain back to turn off the water, and she finally saw why the room smelled so putrid. She screamed out in horror and ran out of the room.

Lorraine's bloated body was lifelessly floating in the overfilling bathtub. The water was so scalding, it was cooking her aging flesh to the point where the entire room smelled entirely of rancid decay. Her skin was burnt and riddled with scars and marbled bruises. Her wrinkly skin was soft and began to slip and slough off her body. Chunks of her burnt skin rose to the surface of the water, leaving behind brown rot. Her gray hair was floating around her face, where her lifeless eyes were staring up at the ceiling.

The unfortunate souls that die at the Overlook become a part of the hotel, and the hotel becomes a part of them. The Overlook operates on a timeline of its own, merging all the eras of the hotel together as one. The unsettled spirit of Lorraine Massey joined the others, becoming a permanent resident of the Overlook. A fate worse than death. Now, the hotel will forever be haunted by her broken heart. This proves that you can check out of the hotel anytime you'd like, but you can never leave.

The hotel is always crowded, but there is always room for one more.