I'd only been working at the parlor for a few days when I started to notice strange stuff happening.

But as someone who struggles with a sleep disorder, I shrugged them off at first.

With insomnia, things can get a little weird even when you're awake.

The thing is, I'd grown used to the little quirks that came along with insomnia,

and these were new, and they only seemed to happen while I was at work.

Olivia Jackson was the client I saw most.

Three days in a row, for a 5-15 appointment each day.

She told me she worked right down the street from the parlor in a marketing firm.

And in order to stay sane, she stopped by the parlor for a massage every day after work.

She always requested me, which was fine, because she was easy to talk to, had soft and clear

skin, and didn't ask for anything weird. The only thing weird she did was say,

Oh, Hector, your hands could wake to dead.

She said this at least once during every massage.

Granted, I'd only massage to her three times when I began to suspect I was going insane.

I was in the middle of giving Miss Jackson her massage.

She was lying on her chest, and I was working on her back, kneading the knots out.

I went to push down on a rhomboid muscle in the upper middle portion of her back.

When my fingers sank into her flesh like it was made of clay.

Panicked, I went to pull them out, but it was as if her flesh and mine had become one.

Her skin stretched as I pulled my hands out, and then it yanked me back toward her.

My hands sank up to my wrists, the flesh tightening around them.

I cried out as I tried once again to pull away. This time her skin barely budged.

...